


Acceptance

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Sand Siblings-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-22 15:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: An exploration of how the sand siblings became closer after the Chuunin arc. No pairings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original notes: This story will be told in varying points of view, switching between Temari, Kankuro and Gaara. I've always wondered about how they became closer, so I thought I'd write about it. Subject to headcanon and influenced by the anime and manga both.  
> Rated T for later content, although it's nothing beyond mild violence/blood/gore.

_Temari, Kankuro... I'm so sorry..._

_Uh, well – it's okay, I guess._

* * *

 

'Do you think we should stop for the night?'

'Do you think we're being followed?'

It was a fair question. Kankuro glanced at the clearing that had caught his attention. The trees of the endless forest were now few and far between, the small crop they stood amongst lending leafy coverage over the cool grass. Although the moon was full, there was little light to see by. Their ragged breathing disturbed the silence of the night. He didn't look it, but with the sand gourd on his back, Gaara was heavy. They'd managed to retrieve it during their escape, and even though the extra weight was unwelcome, Kankuro didn't dare think of leaving it behind.

'Maybe not this far out,' he offered, shifting to see Temari through the darkness.

She gave a swift nod, taking her hand away from the tree trunk that had been her support. Her posture was stiff, her body still gripped tense with unforgotten fear. In the next second she was on the ground, conducting a brief examination of the area. Even this close to the edge of Konoha's territory, there was the possibility of their shinobi patrolling the forest. And who could blame them after the attack earlier in the day? Kankuro shifted his weight, supporting his younger brother's unconscious body as he prepared to make the descent. He appreciated his older sister's strength, relied on her as the main support in their group. Despite being afraid, she was holding herself together well. He hoped the same could be said for him.

Although he hadn't been around to see the full possession, he had more than enough memories to fill in the gaps. His belief that the sheltered Genin of Konoha were yet to know true terror was one he still held strong. Perhaps the earlier ambush had given them a small taste of what it was like to have your home torn apart from the inside. The villagers of Konoha would wake up to leftover debris in the streets, the emerging deaths of innocents. Suna had seen that many times more. Really, there was no comparison. Konoha could meet any threat with solidarity; they were all on the same team. Kankuro often had to pick sides between his home village and his own brother. It was easy to choose who to direct his sympathies towards. But that didn't ease his confliction.

Hearing his apology only made it worse. Gaara had fallen unconscious some time ago. It was hard to know exactly when – the main focus was putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the village of Konoha. Kankuro could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen his younger brother asleep. It never seemed to happen of his own will. So why did nobody take advantage when it happened? Why, instead of putting a permanent end to everything that tormented Suna, did they wait for him to wake up? Not that he could criticise.

Lowering Gaara to the floor with care, Kankuro was mimicking those to have had this opportunity before him. _The sand would probably still protect him anyway._ An age-old excuse. Maybe once, an age-old regret.

Temari had disarmed herself, her weapons lying on the ground at her feet as she enjoyed the absence of their weight with a big stretch. She helped to remove the gourd from Gaara's back, rolling it a little way across the damp grass whilst Kankuro worked on easing the semi-permanent ache that had taken residence in his shoulders. The night was pleasant, nothing compared to the brumal temperatures left after sundown in Suna. It was much-needed after the day's exertions. His chakra had been severely depleted, his whole body now set with the muscle-stiffening tension of being overworked. Sleep would be well-deserved, but they couldn't get complacent. Without Baki around to take the position of watch, he thought they would have to rely on their usual night-owl.

He tilted his head to the side in contemplation, debating the pros and cons of disturbing his brother's sleep. For the most part, Kankuro preferred him that way. At least he was quiet and stuck in one place. Hands on hips, he decided to ask his sister first. She was already looking at him; even in the dark, he could tell she was concerned.

'I was thinking we could wake h—'

'No.'

The word left in an abrupt whisper, her eyes widening with alarm. She straightened, forcing herself to appear more casual.

'If he's out of it we should leave him.'

'But if would probably be better if –'

'I'll keep watch,' she said.

Kankuro hesitated. 'You sure?'

'Positive.'

She gave a wan smile, closing the conversation by turning her back on him to arrange her possessions. Kankuro pulled his hat off his head. He knew better than to argue with her. Right now, he didn't even have the energy. There were so many worries in his mind that he could barely keep track of them all. The last thing they needed was another reason for group disharmony. The time for arguing, for any discussion, would be after they'd touched down in Suna.


	2. Chapter 2

Temari was a light sleeper. It would be a disadvantage to her as a shinobi if she was anything but. She woke to a darkening of the sky, the lightest snap of grass broken underfoot. Startled, she opened her eyes and began to lift herself up to a seated position, automatically reaching for her nearest weapon. The vibrant greens and the warmth of the air told her it was daytime already. Her first look might have been directed to the leafy boughs above to see if it was their shelter that had covered her in so much shade. But she saw his feet. Before that, felt his presence. It was like a weight bearing down on the atmosphere. Her heart felt like it was spluttering between beats. He was staring at her, unmoving. Seeing her younger brother from a lower level made him appear sterner than usual.

'Gaara,' she exclaimed.

She was on her feet before he had a chance to answer. As usual, he had little to say. The moment shouldn't have been awkward; she was used to his quietness. His features were set with his regular brand of intense, silent scrutiny, only the expression appeared somewhat softer. Perhaps it was the aftermath of recent events, Temari told herself.

'Good morning,' she said, as if testing her voice.

She knew how forced it sounded. It was hard to tell if he was as displeased with the greeting as she was because he didn't react. After what felt like hours passing, he blinked, diverting his gaze to the floor. His hair was damp, his skin clear of the blood that had covered it the night before. There were times when she would look at him and see the child he was supposed to be. Rare times, but they happened nonetheless.

'Morning.' Although his tone was reluctant, it was more than she was expecting.

Temari thought it best to stop the conversation there, if she could even call it one. But it was the kind of conversation she liked best. Quick and to the point.

She moved away from the gourd she had been lying beside, absently watching as he lifted it from the floor to stand it upright. The slight trembling of his body with the exertion of movement betrayed his weakness. Temari knew all of them had been put through their paces, but seeing Gaara injured was something else. She thought it was just as well that he'd cleaned himself up a little. Although his shirt was still bloodstained, their father would expect him to return unscathed except for the wound he'd taken in the arena.

She was sure that, by now, the word of their failure to take down Konoha had reached home. Whether they returned would depend on their own resourcefulness. They had yet to reach the sands of Suna, and they had no rations or water to speak of. It was a long journey as well. Probably about time they left. She looked for Kankuro, expecting to see him still asleep in the grass. The space was empty – even his gear was missing.

'Where's Kankuro?' she voiced aloud, examining the whole clearing.

It wasn't long before she was met with her younger brother again, who stared impassively as he worked at strapping the gourd to his back. A spark of irritation ignited in her chest, leaving her throat in something similar to a growl. Kankuro knew better than to wander off alone. She knew that he could be out looking for water or relieving himself, but she had two options: wait in the clearing with Gaara, or go off to find her saner, more rationally minded sibling. Gaara had been polite so far, but he was always polite. It was a wonder where he'd picked up his manners, and more than a little disconcerting given how quickly he could abandon them. Looking for Kankuro was definitely the safer option, and she could trust that Gaara would stay in one place if left to his own devices. She could at least give him credit for having more sense than his elder brother when it came to being responsible in foreign territory.

Besides, Temari had no qualms with leaving the monster by himself. He was the sibling she didn't have to worry for. He fended for himself out in the desert all of the time. But whilst she didn't have to worry for him, there was plenty of room in her mind to worry about him. Over the years, she'd seen countless shinobi suffocated and crushed by the rivers of sand Gaara commanded. She had walked the ruined streets after one of his rampages, helped to clear up the rubble left behind and pulled lifeless, cold bodies from beneath the debris. Even though the past six years had been fortunate enough not to have resulted in the death of another family member, Temari never let herself believe that such a thing was impossible. Not with how often herself and Kankuro had been threatened with death. They lived in fear of their brother every day. The thought of losing their lives to his aggression was never far from her mind. She couldn't sit around and wait for Kankuro's return even if she wanted to. She had to know he was safe.

Leaping up amongst the trees, she began to trace back the path they had taken to get to the clearing in the first place. She didn't think to measure the distance she was backtracking, only to keep a sharp lookout for any evidence of Kankuro's passing through. He wouldn't be hard to miss in his all-black suit, and with the Crow strapped to his back in all of that wrapping, he was easy to identify from a distance. Her eyes were trained on the full branches of the trees, the patches of grass and mud below. Above the thumping of her heart in her ears, there was nothing to hear except the rasping calls of birds and the cackle of cicadas. The scent of fresh foliage and woodland flora was almost suffocating. For a second, she was sure that a flash of blackness passed her vision, and so she brought herself to a swift halt. Balancing herself on the thin branch she had chosen to rest at, she almost teetered over the side at the sound of his voice calling her name.

'Hey, you're going the wrong way!'

Temari spun to face him, remaining in her place. He had leapt up into the trees to join her, oblivious as always. A riot of indignant rage and relieved terror tore at her insides. Whilst half of her wanted to scream at him until she lost her voice, the other half wanted to close the distance between them and grip him in a vice-like hug. The decision of which response to use came fast.

'Since when did you just take off on your own?' she yelled back, jumping ahead so that only one branch rested between them.

Kankuro showed her his canteen, no longer empty. The fabric cover was soaked with water, the contents sloshing against the inside of the flask.

'I filled yours, too,' he said.

Turning a little to the side, he showed the extra two bottles attached to the wrappings he used to keep the Crow concealed. Temari finally joined him, snatching her own canteen and lifting the stopper so that she could take a drink.

'Gaara was awake already, so I left him to keep watch.'

She swallowed a mouthful of the water, a sharp inhalation of shock dragging it into her lungs. It burned, a bout of hacking coughs arresting her for almost a whole minute. When she had calmed, Kankuro was staring at her with one eyebrow raised, one hand still holding his own canteen at chest-height whilst the other supported the puppet resting at his back.

'Is everything okay?' he asked.

Temari recognised the tone. He knew something wasn't right, he just didn't want to have to talk about it. Usually she would oblige him by stating that everything was fine. Now, she didn't feel like they had the luxury of being so flippant about the problem they were trying to avoid.

Kankuro's way of dealing with it was to pretend it didn't exist. Whilst she had some skill at concealing her true feelings, Temari didn't think she could disguise her uneasiness at their situation like he could. That was, if he felt any uneasiness about it at all. She looked at him, still slightly stooped over from her coughing fit, the back of her right hand pressed to her mouth.

'How could you trust him with that?'

Kankuro clicked his tongue, 'C'mon, Temari,' he reasoned. 'He's always our watcher for the night.'

'But after a full possession?' she countered. 'Are you insane?'

Experience told them both that the hours after a full possession were never stable for Gaara. Whilst any other person could black out and benefit from the rest, the host of the Shukaku suffered further. Anyone would struggle to keep themselves conscious after such a depletion of chakra, but her youngest brother wasn't just anyone. Every time he slept, his psyche was being ripped apart by the monster within. What made it worse was his lack of inclination to fight off it's growing influence on his thoughts.

Chagrin at his mistake registered for no longer than a second. Kankuro tried to keep the conversation light-hearted.

'I'm not the one who's insane, remember?' She couldn't reward him for his attempt at a joke. In a way, Temari was hurt that he didn't exercise more caution on her behalf. Would he have been just as frantic if she had gone missing from the clearing? Something told her otherwise, but then this behaviour wasn't like her either.

She had to admit to herself that the fear she'd felt the day before was still rattling her thoughts.

Being back in Suna after a decent sleep and some good food would be enough to help her relax again, but whilst they were still in enemy territory with the pressing matter of their youngest sibling's sanity at the fore, there wasn't any guarantee they'd make it home. Right now, she needed her wits about her. Even if they were almost at their end.

'Look, I get it,' he said, dropping the jokes. 'The apology thing... was sudden. But ignoring it might aggravate him. We should just be the same team that left Suna for now. Let him make all of the first moves, like usual.'

'Right,' Temari agreed. 'But let's still be careful.'

He nodded, all serious before giving into a grin. 'Please, I'm always careful.'

The air suddenly felt lighter and she gave into a tired smile. Perhaps they would make it back alive. Kankuro turned on his heel, gesturing in the direction of the clearing. That way? Temari nodded. She had to collect her things before they left this part of the woodland for good.

Not long after they began to travel, something caught Kankuro's attention. Whatever it was, it gave him a shock, as he stumbled on his landing. Ankle buckling beneath his weight, he fell from the thin branch like a stone, a sharp cry following his descent. Temari took the space as her own, leaning forwards to laugh at his clumsiness. The sound caught in her throat as she watched the sand engulf him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Thank you very much for reading~


	3. Chapter 3

The smile vanished from her face at the sight of the sand cloud that caught Kankuro's fall. He sat upright, appearing a mix between relieved and terrified as he was guided back up to the sturdy tree branches. Temari searched for Gaara's whereabouts, catching him directly opposite to where she was standing. She was sure that she would never develop the senses required to hear his approach before it was too late.

One hand outstretched, he brought Kankuro up to where he had been last before the fall. Once his feet were on the solid surface of the tree branch, the sand separated into wisps of isolated grains, returning to the open gourd that Gaara had fastened to his back.

_So much for being careful._

He was using the main trunk of the tree to keep his balance, his breathing labored. For a moment, it looked like he was going to clutch his head in agony, only he forced his arm down by his side and pushed away from the trunk, wary of their eyes on him.

'Er, thanks,' Kankuro said.

Temari realised they had both been standing there, staring without saying a word. She didn't even notice she had been holding her breath until it left her lungs by force. The tension was alleviated, and reality began to seep back into the moment; somehow it was like being released from a genjutsu. There was no verbal answer. Gaara turned away from them both and leapt several branches ahead, disappearing into the distance just as his siblings thought to follow. They allowed themselves one look of confusion before letting it go.

She couldn't be sure how much of their conversation he'd heard, but Temari was more surprised by his appearance than anything else. For so long, she had believed that he didn't care if they lived or died. Kankuro's fall wasn't serious, so for Gaara to go out of his way with such a gesture was strange. As he continued onwards, Temari dropped down into the clearing to collect all of her possessions. The night before, it had been a relief to take the weight of the fan she carried off her shoulders. Now, it was a comfort to have it near.

'That was weird,' she heard Kankuro whisper.

They were back on the move, and he had leapt closer, his voice only just travelling between the speed of their movements and the surrounding forest noise.

'Do you think he heard us?' she whispered back.

'Probably,' he said, without pause. 'I'm all for being cautious, but—'

'But nothing,' Temari answered, with a severe stare to match.

For the past six years he'd threatened them innumerable times and endangered their lives. Gaara had told them in more ways than one that he cared little for their wellbeing. It was going to take a lot more than one saved fall to change that.

'He needs us to get him back home without us taking advantage of his weakened state,' Temari reminded him.

She felt the harshness of her words after they'd left her lips, and Kankuro's wounded expression was enough to make her embarrassed by them. But she couldn't waver. She was yet to think of any gesture of goodwill sent their way at Gaara's hands; now wasn't the time for Kankuro to be gullible. Apologies given during extremes were weightless. Anyone could be sorry at their limit. Gaara didn't really mean it and Kankuro was stupid not to realise it. If he didn't share her conviction, then that was his mistake. She looked away as he leapt off to the side, putting a greater distance between them. Now they were all focused on nothing else but getting home.

Not that she knew why. Something told her that their problems wouldn't be any less of a burden there than they were out here.

 

* * *

 

Gaara stumbled. It felt like the forest was never-ending, with more thick tree trunks emerging over the horizon at each leap. The sun was at her midpoint, but the area was cool and drowned in shade. Kankuro didn't want to be the first to say anything. He looked back to see Temari directing a bewildered stare his way. It was as if someone had put them all on pause. Since they both realised that Gaara could kill them at a moment's notice, it had become an unspoken rule that he was their group leader. Kankuro had tried asserting his dominance as the older brother before but it rarely got him anywhere. It was far better to play the cowardly subordinate and win Gaara's mercy than attempt to defy the death penalty that was permanently hanging over their heads. However, they couldn't wait around in the trees forever, and his silent conversation with Temari was beginning to turn into a staring contest.

Stumbling whilst travelling wasn't unheard of. It could happen to anyone. A weak tree branch, fatigue, going too fast… there were many causes. His pride should have seen him back on his feet and picking up speed without pause. Instead, Gaara dropped to a crouch, his head lowered as if he was about to succumb to nausea. Kankuro didn't know where to look. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Never in his whole life had he seen the kid ill. Gaara often spent the days after a possession alone and out of sight. As usual, he found himself looking to Temari, hoping she would have all of the answers.

'Should we stop for a rest?' The question provoked their younger sibling to get back onto his feet, although he seemed to be struggling. Without any hesitation, Kankuro leapt forwards so that they were sharing the same branch. He'd never seen his brother look so weak. Working one of the canteens from the Crow's wrappings, he held it out for Gaara to take. Instead of reaching out for it, he eyed the bottle with suspicion.

'Is that thing giving you a headache?' Kankuro asked, shaking the canteen from side-to-side. ''Cause this will help.'

A realisation struck him. That was another unspoken rule, one he'd just broken. Never make reference to the Shukaku. Ever. He'd seen Gaara called just about every name under the sun and he wouldn't so much as flinch, but the vaguest mention of the monster he carried with him was sure to break his composure every time. The worst part was not being able to predict the outcome. It could range from being ignored for days on end to being smothered with sand. Kankuro considered himself lucky for drawing the former consequence more often than not, but he'd seen enough uses of the 'sand coffin' to fear being on the wrong end of it.

'I mean,' he began, 'I was just –'

'Thanks.' He took the flask, pulling out the stopper and taking small sips whilst Kankuro tried to adjust to his failed expectations. There should have been a wave of relief, but instead he felt somewhat stuck, as if he just had to set off one more trigger before the bomb really did explode. Instead, the moment stretched on, and it wasn't until Temari spoke up again that things seemed to switch perspective.

'I don't know about the both of you, but I ran out of food pellets a while back.'

'S-Same,' Kankuro said, his hand still outstretched even though the flask had been taken. He looked to his sister, 'I bet this place is full of things we can eat. Like berries and stuff.'

She'd cooled off since their disagreement, but she didn't hide the exhaustion from her tone. Things were still tense, and it was clear she was nervous about having to stop once more. Either that, or she begrudged the brothers' closeness.

'Gaara, if you want, you can stay here whilst we go looking.'

'Foraging,' he corrected.

A nervous laugh caught in Kankuro's throat. 'Right, _foraging_ then.'

'...I'll stay here.'

'Right.'

He felt as if he should tell him to take care or something along those lines, but even though the words were fighting to be spoken, he forced them back until the silence became too settled to disturb. Temari jumped from her branch, descending to the forest floor, and Kankuro followed immediately. She was already searching the low bushes by the time he was on the ground.

Rather than start a conversation, he took off in the opposite direction. It wasn't long before he found what they were looking for. There was no worry about finding poisonous berries or toxic plants. Part of their assignment before reaching Konoha had been to study and learn the natural plant life and fauna of the region. Kankuro was more than sure that the dark, sweet-scented berries he was collecting were safe to eat.

By the time he'd plucked the stalks of the bush clean, his hands were rough with the smell of the leaves. The whole forest was heady with the scent of damp mud and living things festering amongst the foliage. Part of what he liked about the deserts surrounding Suna was the vast emptiness of the landscape, the musky heat of the air. There was too much noise between these trees; it was like an attack on the senses. Not to mention all of the bugs crawling around.

He caught one scuttling across the berries in his hand and almost dropped them in an attempt to bat it away.

'I've got something,' he heard Temari say, her voice growing louder as she approached. 'What about you? Have you had any luck?'

'Not much but it's better than nothing,' he admitted.

She checked over the berries in his hand, picking one up to examine the shape and texture.

'I don't recognise this kind,' she said.

'They look safe enough.'

Temari held out her own collection, using her free hand to dust all of the Kankuro's unidentified finds to the floor. They bounced on contact, disappearing amongst the grass.

'Kankuro, really,' she said, her voice gruff with concern, 'you need to stop relying so heavily on appearances.'

As if to demonstrate her point, she popped one of the berries she'd found into her mouth, her eye twitching in reaction to the bitterness. Her hand remained open in offering, the smaller, red berries leaving traces of juice over her skin. After a little deliberation, he took a few, shoving them into his pocket the second her back was turned.

'Let's get going,' she said.

By the time they returned to the upper level of the trees, Gaara looked bored with waiting. He took their re-appearance as a cue to start moving again, kicking off from the branch and leading the way. The canteen had been left leaning against the trunk. Kankuro stopped to collect it; it left him a few paces behind, but he didn't worry about not being able to catch up. Just as Temari vanished out of his sight, he picked up the water bottle, feeling by the weight that it was about half full. He wondered if it would last for the remainder of the journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Not my favourite way to end a chapter, but I didn't want this to go on for much longer... thank you very much for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

'Almost home.'

Kankuro leapt to the ground, his toes meeting the bronze sands that stretched out for miles ahead. The hidden village was in miniature-scale on the horizon, a silent monument blanketed by clouds of lifted grains. The rising sun chased shadows back over the great dunes, and her warm strength filled the air with tantalising humidity. Like a fire lighting the sky, the heat of the day to come was already thickening the atmosphere.

Even though they'd travelled throughout the night just to make up the time, the three siblings found themselves slowing to a casual walk over the sand. So eager to get home, Kankuro led the way, Temari just-so flanking him and Gaara left behind by a fair few paces. They were all tired, all glad to be so close to a familiarity they all thought they'd never see again. For Kankuro, it had certainly felt that way back in Konoha. There was a brief moment of thought that he'd never experienced before. _What if I don't survive this next battle? What if I don't survive the journey home?_ Water and food became a nonissue with the forest being so full of edible treats and clear streams. He hadn't been worried about starving to death or dehydration. The only thing he had feared was Gaara's silence.

He was quiet the majority of the time, but there was being quiet, and then there was being silent.

It descended not long after they had been forced to stop. From that point on, he hadn't said a word, even when spoken to. There came a point when Kankuro thought that an ambush of enemy shinobi would have been a welcome noise to hear over the perpetual weight of this extreme brand of taciturnity. The only respite had been the brief moments he'd spent with Temari whilst gathering more to eat or hanging back far enough from Gaara's lead to sneak a conversation between the two of them. More than once they'd asked themselves, _why are we whispering?_ It just felt like they should.

'I can't wait to get a bath and to eat something that doesn't taste like grass,' he persisted, hoping for some agreement.

It was enough to break Temari from her thoughts at least. 'After what's just happened, I doubt we'll get the luxury of relaxation.'

'Konoha won't retaliate,' Kankuro assured.

'And they probably won't consider being our allies ever again either.'

Out of habit, they still kept their voices low in volume; even this close to home they had to take care. As they drew closer, the village showed itself for the fortress it was, but there were often rogues lingering on the outskirts looking for any opportunity to strike. If there was one thing Temari and Kankuro knew by now, it was not to let their guard down at any point. Even when they were home safe. So there were no sighs of relief once they reached the opening.

In fact, they found themselves more on edge than before. Kankuro slowed his pace, Temari didn't overtake him, and Gaara was still catching up. The great walls of the village towered up into the sky, a dark path of shadows awaiting their return. Watchmen remained at their stations, eyes out on the desert expanse beyond. Kankuro was forced to a pause by their rigid discipline.

Not so much as a 'welcome home' for the three children of the Kazekage? Even with Gaara present, it was very rare for the siblings to be ignored. He cast an uneasy glance to Temari, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the stone-faced watchmen for long enough to return the gesture. Before he thought to stop himself, Kankuro turned to see Gaara's reaction to the unusual silence that covered the village. At this point, they should have at least been able to hear the sounds of the morning routine clamouring beyond the walls.

He was in the middle of taking a deep breath, as if to force some semblance of calm. Or it might have looked that way if Gaara wasn't already a living example of expert composure. Kankuro interpreted it as a heavy sigh, perhaps one of irritation at the halt, as he eased between him and Temari both before disappearing into the shade. Silence had taken all three of them now, and they trudged towards the mouth of the village, weighted by a shared sense of foreboding.

The place was almost empty. Anybody they did pass ducked their heads or abruptly changed direction. Even the children were shy, clinging to their guardians and suffering the silence.

Wooden wind chimes clattered and clacked, the sound of muffled footsteps filling the streets. Where the scents of food from popular vendors and open tea houses should have filtered through the air, there was nothing but musty sand clouds and dust trails.

'Excuse me, is something wrong?'

Kankuro stopped the next person to cross them, holding his hands up in surrender when they flinched at the sight of him. With his face full of sympathy, the man muttered an apology before hurrying on his way. Temari shrugged when he sought her out for an explanation, her brow creased with worry lines. The three of them walked separate from one another, all heading towards the main building where their father would be waiting to receive them. It was a long walk from the entrance, the rounded building seeming to remain in the distance for quite some time before they reached the foot of it.

Kankuro held the door open for his sister and waited for her to catch up. They both entered the building to see that something had stopped Gaara in the hallway. Whilst it wasn't the person he wanted to see, Kankuro was still pleased to see Baki alive and well. They arrived just in time to interrupt the intense atmosphere that arose whenever their teacher and younger brother met.

Every moment between them was like a silent battle for dominance; how Gaara hadn't snapped and killed the man already was beyond Kankuro's comprehension. They'd been given a teacher before Baki who'd met such a fate, so lasting this long with the siblings had to be an achievement for their superior.

'You all made it,' he said, but his expression was grave. 'I expected no less.'

'I guess everybody heard about our failure,' Kankuro said, jerking his thumb back to the closed door. 'I've never seen the village so glum.'

Baki acknowledged the observation with a slight nod, his gaze resting on all three of the siblings in turn. The silence became uncomfortable, the stifling heat from outside seeping into the corridor.

'The shinobi of the leaf were tougher opponents than we thought,' he answered eventually. 'You all deserve a rest and to have your wounds seen to.'

'Sure,' Kankuro said. 'Where's dad? I mean, he probably got back here with you, right?'

Although the response was almost undetectable, Kankuro could have sworn Baki had balked at his question. But with half of his face hidden behind a loose section of the turban he wore at his head, it was often hard to catch the subtle changes in his facial expression.

'Of course,' he stammered, unable to maintain eye contact.

Executing an awkward bow, he motioned past Gaara and headed for the exit, his response uttered seconds before he opened the door to leave.

'He'll see to the three of you later. Rest for now.'

The sound of the latch catching in the doorjamb was the only thing to be heard for a good minute. Kankuro looked at where his teacher had been moments before, still struggling to work out the meaning behind his behaviour. Temari sighing aloud broke him from his thoughts, but it was Gaara who arrested his attention.

'He's lying.'

Kankuro was quick to retaliate. 'What do you mean by that?'

Even though Gaara looked tired, he still managed to appear frighteningly stern. He motioned to turn his back on them, only Temari's intervention stopped him in his tracks.

'Something's wrong,' she agreed. 'And it's more than our loss to Konoha.'

'So if Baki's lying, then what's he lying about?'

Kankuro aimed the question at his brother. His initial response was a blank stare, his thoughts hidden perfectly by his empty countenance. As usual, the siblings were left waiting for his answer. Not that it mattered much. Kankuro felt he knew it already. It kept appearing in his mind, only for him to shove it away with denial. There was something wrong, that much was obvious. He just didn't want to entertain the ideas emerging in his conscious.

'Dad isn't here,' Gaara said, before beginning his walk down the corridor. 'Make of that what you will.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Thank you kindly for reading...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: This part is in Gaara's POV.

He didn't want to make it look obvious. The point of the errand was to gather information; if none of it turned out to be useful, then the excursion never happened. Walking amongst the crowds of common people always attracted attention. He needed Baki to think he was alone.

There was a large screen door to the back of the building, in a training area that hadn't been used for well over a month now. The great glass panes reached from the top of the ceiling to the floor, allowing the daylight outside to seep into the room. Behind the surrounding structures, the fierce sun was now at her midpoint in the sky, stretching shadows across the soft training mats that carpeted the cool stone beneath. A thick layer of dust smothered the untouched apparatus, and a thin veil of specs drifted idly in front of the doors. Gaara had collected the keys from his father's office; he pulled one of the clear screens aside, stepping out into the stifling midday heat and into the dry yard beyond. Fingerprints on the glass and sandal markings on the floor mats were the only things he left behind.

The village was still quiet, although the traffic had increased with the time of day. Leaping up onto the stone wall that made a perimeter around the yard, he caught sight of the teeming crowds through a narrow alleyway, their hushed chatter carried over by the warm breeze. Landing on the other side, Gaara took all of the shortcuts he knew to get to the main marketplace. It was like a crossroads, intercepting almost every path through the village. He was fairly sure that he would see Baki there, no matter where the man was headed.

By all means, Gaara shouldn't have cared about any of this. His own father being missing might have been happy news. But the disappearance of the Kazekage wasn't going to make anything easier. If he wasn't around to be cautious and judgemental, then the rest of the village always would be. Then there was the matter of the apology. What could he do to show Kankuro and Temari that he had meant it? How could he even begin to repair the gaping wounds that kept him apart from his family? Maybe his father would always be a lost cause, but...

He could still give his siblings medicine. Just for the time being, doing them a favour he hadn't been asked to do might earn a small piece of their trust. They would care if the Kazekage was missing. They would want to know where he was, and Gaara believed that Baki was privy to that information. He remained hidden, making use of stacked open-top crates brimming with the day's imported fresh fruits and vegetables. Being a little shorter than average had its advantages, as did being the village outcast. Everything he did looked suspicious, so hiding in the shadows of a fruit stall wasn't the worst thing he could be caught doing. And anyone planning to use the small cut he was occupying diverted their path the instant they saw him. Likewise, the stall owner did nothing past appearing alarmed at having someone inform him that the Kazekage's youngest son was loitering around his wares. It was the same look Gaara had seen hundreds of times before. He tried to ignore that, and the following nervous glances that kept catching his eye.

_Kill him._

He kept his gaze trained on the passing crowds, allowing the echoes of bartering and shouted advertisements to drown out his thoughts. From where he stood, he had a good view of the whole strip. Having used the alleyways and backstreets to his advantage, Gaara was sure that he had beaten Baki to the marketplace. He was expecting his teacher to come walking towards him. After that, he would take to the rooftops, remaining out of sight as he followed.

The merchant had moved closer, only stopped in his tracks by a browsing customer. His irritation was evident; Gaara was aware that if Baki didn't appear soon, the surrounding villagers would start to create a scene about his lurking.

_Kill them._

It didn't matter where he rested his eyes, everybody looked the same. All of them staring. All of them judging. Quite a crowd had gathered at the fruit stall now, their interest not as invested in the produce as it should have been. He overheard their comments, the same recycled insults and uttered remarks that had travelled with him throughout his whole life.

_I'm telling you to kill them._

_Just shut up_ , he thought, but there across the way, he caught the sight of someone familiar. Baki was approaching, maneuvering himself through the gathered villagers, flanked by two other shinobi. The longer the day wore on, the busier it became. Gaara forced himself to wait by the crates for just a little longer until his teacher had passed by him. Against his growing discomfort with the sheer amount of people crammed into one narrow space, he pushed his way through in a battle to keep Baki in his sights. A pathway started to clear, allowing him an easier passage, and soon enough he found a ledge over a stall that he could easily jump onto. Leaving the smells of dank sweat and cooking food behind, he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the chase slow enough for him to keep up.

Baki was dawdling, his travels to the outskirts of the village almost casual. Every so often, he'd talk with the men at his side, but all three of them seemed distracted. Between hiding behind fixtures and skulking in shadowed balconies, Gaara followed them all the way to the mouth of the village. Observing from around the side of a house, he watched the men ascend the steps to the exit.

The watchmen on the outside had witnessed Gaara disappearing into the desert on more than one occasion. Often, he heard their sharp intakes of breath as he approached, had even suffocated a few of them for disturbing his inner peace. Now, he thought, not things to be proud of. Whilst leaving the village on his own was subject to being ignored, following after high-ranking shinobi like Baki and his attendants would call his motives into question. The watchers might stop him, or tell someone that he had been seen tailing trusted advisors. The thought crossed his mind that he could use the sand Shunshin, but with the amount of guards situated around the outside of the village, it wouldn't prevent him from being seen entirely.

It was a move that used little chakra, but since leaving Konoha, Gaara was unsure of whether he wanted to use any at all. He had tested himself; it was 'lucky' that Kankuro had fallen as it gave him something to practice with. However, the resulting aftermath within made him wary of trying anything similar for the time being. He'd resonated with the Shukaku for so long that it was hard to distinguish between his own power and that of the Bijuu. They were almost one and the same, something he tried not to think about. Not to mention that he was still waiting for his 'punishment' for the way his battle ended with Naruto. The Shukaku had wanted blood, and none had been taken. Gaara's brief loss of consciousness had been enough of a mistake – the last thing he needed was to lose control when it could so easily be avoided.

Left with no other choice, he decided to approach the exit. There had been a few minutes between Baki's passing through and his own appearance. If he was lucky, the watchmen would think of it as a coincidence. Stepping into the shadowed pathway he'd crossed less than an hour or so before, he was met with the sound of someone running towards him.

'Stop!' they shouted, 'You can't pass through –'

The young shinobi's face drained of all colour, his expression loose with shock. Stumbling over his words for a moment, he eventually managed to string a sentence together.

'All villagers are under orders to stay away from the deserts at this time,' he said, perfectly rehearsed.

'Why?'

_Kill him._

It was worth trying to glean information from the young watchman. Although he wasn't expecting his path of atonement to be an easy one, Gaara wanted to try adhering to it as soon as possible. The longer he made excuses for himself, the longer it would take for anything to change. He wanted desperately for this exchange to go smoothly, without any problems.

'What do you mean, 'why'?' the shinobi answered. 'It's an order. I'm not at liberty to discuss it beyond that.'

_Confident, all of a sudden._

'I'm the Kazekage's son,' he reminded. 'I can leave the village whenever I want. I usually do.'

_I'll show him. Frighten the others by splattering his blood all over—_

'All due respect, but even the Kazekage's children can't leave the village today.'

He felt a headache coming on, but they were never standard brain pains. It was more like his skull was being cracked open from the inside, as if something was trying to grow right out of it.

That and the frightening mantras overriding his thoughts made it harder for him to focus on anything the young man was saying. He kept talking, talking with his hands, talking with rehearsed lines, talking and talking.

_His voice is annoying._

_You should kill him._

There was a sudden movement. Gaara caught it before closing his eyes. The sound of shifting sand scraped through the air. It was never the last thing he heard. Sometimes pleas, sometimes names. But the noise of the sand was never the last thing he heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Thank you for reading once again, but also for the feedback, follows and favourites. It's all much appreciated...! I hope the rest of this messy little story continues to be of interest...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Sorry this is kind of late...! I'll upload it before I edit it to death.

His knees hit the floor hard, bit-back groans and pained whimpers leaving through his teeth. The screams he had been expecting didn't come; the area was otherwise quiet. Fighting a battle on the inside was always going to be harder than any other physical conflict. And it didn't help that the Shukaku was a tougher opponent than most.

It was like he took offence to being denied.

With his headache ebbing and the tumultuous war for power finally at an end, Gaara opened his eyes, already planning his apology to the frightened watchman. He was greeted with an empty pathway, the great stone walls and sandy floor wet with blood and stringy sinew. _Nobody heard a thing_ , the Shukaku rumbled. _He was suffocated first._

The sand from the gourd lay around in clumps, absorbing the leftovers. Gaara recalled the taste of blood; it was like iron. The air smelt of copper and the eerie silence that befell the opening of the village was both a relief and an agent to his terror.

There was no understanding it. He'd tried. He'd actually tried this time.

Did this mean taking full control was impossible? Would every confrontation, no matter how big or small, end in this way? What if he really was better off alone. What if isolating himself was the only way he would ever be able to spare anybody?

He picked himself up off the ground, feeling his legs shaking for the second time in the space of a few days. The first time he had felt this frightened, he had been beneath the moon on that cold night, when Yashamaru lay crumpled at his feet. The last time... he recalled lying on his back in a clearing, somewhere amongst the forestry of Konoha. Opposite the one called Naruto Uzumaki. At that moment, he had feared dying. He had feared losing everything he had worked so hard to get.

That boy had made him realise that all he really had was nothing. Nothing but a deep hole carved into his chest, a wound he now had to heal. Gaara thought that he had been on his way to seeking out the right kind of medicine for it, but now...

What would Temari and Kankuro think?

Slick with the blood of a fresh kill, the sand retracted back into the gourd, the container growing heavier as it filled itself right to the top. Gaara straightened, turning in all directions to make sure nobody had seen. But there was no way he could follow Baki out by foot now.

There was an empty, run-down convenience store on the outskirts of the east-side estates, the old sign visible from the top of the steps where he stood. He knew Sunagakure like the back of his hand, had been around it more than enough times to know where he could spend the night in favour of returning home. Over the years, he had taken many disused properties as his own until they were renovated and reused, but the convenience store hadn't taken anybody else's interest for a long while now.

Sure that he was alone and unwatched, Gaara broke his no-chakra rule and opened the third eye, connecting the optic nerve and leaving the small, sand-made eyeball by the village opening whilst he made for his chosen hideout. Navigating the streets with only half of his vision was easier than it should have been, if not a little disorientating.

Around the back of the small, detached store, there was an open window, the frame slack with rot and the lock long broken. He lifted up the pane, a cloud of dust and sand grains floating out into the warm air. Inside it was cool with shade, the rest of the windows boarded up with wooden shutters. The place smelt musty with age, the floorboards creaking even though Gaara prided himself on being light-footed. He left the beam of light that warmed his entrance, embracing the darkness and taking refuge beneath the old, broken staircase.

Despite being hidden, his heartbeat was still erratic, his chest full of dread. Anybody could have seen what he had done. He still couldn't get over the failure.

_Listen, Gaara_.

He tried not to listen. Able to control the third eye even from this distance, he took in the expansive desert sands beyond the opening, scouring the golden dunes for any sight of Baki and the men he had taken with him. It didn't take him long to find evidence of their passing through the shifting drifts; vague impressions of their footprints gave their position away.

_Nobody else accepts you like I do._

Gaara observed that all three of them were standing around a great ditch, heads bowed and backs turned to whatever lay inside. They talked quietly amongst themselves, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. Not that it mattered. He took the opportunity to look into the hole. The abrupt shock forced him to lose focus, his visual aid terminated the second he opened his left eye.

A roaring laugh erupted in his mind, the image of the sunken corpses burnt over all of his existing thoughts. Where there should have been overwhelming emotion of any kind, Gaara barely registered anything. What did he feel, seeing his own father dead? It wasn't like it was something he hadn't imagined for himself countless times before.

_It's called relief!_

Rising to a stand, he tried to block out the voice of the Shukaku.

He'd made a decision, now it was time to deliver the information he'd learnt. His feelings shouldn't factor here. Besides, he was betting on Temari and Kankuro appreciating his efforts, even just a little.

_Sounds like a bad bet._

Gaara stood where the only ray of light to reach the room met the floor, his toes almost warmed by it. Dust specks flitted through the beam like a trailing veil, the day's heat mingling with the cool shade that bathed him. The death of the watchman shouldn't have been so upsetting. But he was walking a fine line of trust with his siblings as it was. Barely one step forward, he felt like he had stared down into the abyss. He felt like he was already backtracking. Dread ran down his chest like cold water; it was like everybody else was at the other side of the wire he was challenging himself to cross.

The worst of it was, the two people who should have been closest to him seemed to be the furthest away.

_Like I said_ , he heard in the back of his mind, _sounds like a bad bet_.

 

* * *

  

'Hey, Temari?' He knocked on the door three times. 'I'm coming in.'

'Sure.'

She was sitting in front of her mirror, running a brush through the damp strands of her hair. Dressed in light clothing, she had no intention of leaving the mansion that night. With all of the travelling they'd done, a bath had been her first priority, and a good meal would be the next one. There was always food in their cupboards; if there wasn't, then she could send an attendant to get some.

Kankuro left the doorway, crossing the room and perching on the end of her bed. All of his make-up had been wiped off, his hat nowhere to be seen, but he was dressed in casual attire. Since most of his outfits tended to be black in colour, it was hard to tell between his clothes for battle and then those for bed.

'I haven't seen Baki all afternoon. I'm thinking of going out to find him, to see what he knows about dad.'

'Dad's probably fine,' Temari said, but decided to correct herself. 'He's always fine.'

She put the brush down on the dressing table, turning around to face her younger brother. He looked cross, his posture tense.

'Have you ever thought that Gaara might have been lying?'

'Why would he?' Kankuro argued, locking gazes with her.

She blinked, unsure of how to respond. Since Gaara's apology back in Konoha, she had felt nothing but guilt. If not for her inability to believe in it, then at Kankuro's lack of patience with her. Deep down, she wanted for them to be a happy family, close-knit and able to trust one another with their lives. It was just far easier to strive for that with Kankuro than it had ever been to establish with Gaara.

There were times when she had known that her aims to please her youngest brother were motivated only by fear. Fear of what he would do if she didn't at least try to be a loving sister. But in the end, he was unaffected by both her affection and her indifference. Showing the latter just happened to be much less of an effort. That, and it was what Gaara seemed to want.

'Well, how does he know dad is missing?' she asked, sounding much colder than she had planned.

'He has good senses?' Kankuro defended lamely.

He propped his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his unkempt hair.

'Gaara wouldn't kill dad,' he went on, unable to look Temari in the eye. 'He wouldn't dare.'

A gust of wind bearing at the window broke the opportunity for silence, and both siblings turned to look out across the buildings beyond the pane. Another sandstorm had rolled in, the sky blanketed by streams of cloud hued red. Temari breathed in deep, catching the scent of her freshly washed hair.

'So you think he's been killed?'

She'd never felt her chest so full and so empty. Dread swelled, panic beginning to brim, but it was like a cavern had opened up inside of her. Blinking a few times, she cleared the tears attempting to form there.

'I don't know,' Kankuro said slowly, his voice breaking a little. He cleared his throat, 'But I can't think of any other reason why he would be missing.'

Without warning, he lifted himself up from the bed, heading straight for the door. Temari watched as he wrenched it back, almost with enough force to hit the wall behind it. She saw their youngest sibling at about the same time he did, both of them jumping in shock. It forced her from her chair, so she recovered by joining her elder brother's side. Kankuro was visibly flustered, but held his position.

'Have you ever heard of knocking?!' he yelled in fright.

To his credit, Gaara's fist was raised, as if he had been moments away from rapping against the door. His answer was a brief glance towards his own clenched hand before looking Kankuro in the eye again.

'What do you want?'

As always, there was no visible reaction. Not that the same could be said for Temari. Gaara hadn't changed from the clothes he had been wearing upon their arrival, but she was sure that the only mark of blood had been that at his chest where the chidori had caught him. Now, the white sash over his shoulder was spattered with dried crimson marks, his bare arms speckled the same.

'What have you done?' she asked, surprising herself as much as him.

But it wasn't the first time he'd returned to them looking like that. He would usually glare them into keeping their tongues, an unspoken challenge for them to dare commenting on it.

'I've come here to tell you something,' he said.

His voice was so soft that it sent a shiver down her spine. She had always hated to see him so serene when drenched with somebody else's blood. The stench of it clung to him, the room filled with the metallic tang of his latest kill. Casualties during missions were one thing, but wandering the streets to pick off your own people was something else entirely.

Gaara crossed the threshold into the bedroom, ignorant of their reservations. Kankuro pushed the door shut. Somehow he managed to keep his cool, throat jumping as he swallowed back his fear.

'Did anybody see you?' was the first thing he asked.

Temari glanced at him, surprised. Was he intending on covering for him if he had killed again? Her outrage came second to her pity, pity for Kankuro who was obviously so blinded by the sudden apology they'd received that he was willing to clutch at it with both hands and refuse to let it go.

Gaara considered his words for a moment. Although he looked ready to answer, there was no chance for him to say anything.

'Was it just one?' Kankuro went on. 'Or two, or three? How many?'

He had raised his voice so suddenly that she felt herself flinch at the volume. Ensuring that the door was properly closed, Temari shoved Kankuro by the shoulder.

'Calm down,' she urged. 'Gaara, you said you had something to say, so what is it?'

His eyes travelled to meet hers, his expression as unreadable as always. She was finding it difficult not to focus on his bloodstained clothes, not to dwell too much on how short-lived their hope had been. She was proud of herself for not buying into his fake apology. Until he could prove himself, she didn't think it was worth the hurt. Beside her, Kankuro shook with barely suppressed anger - either that, or he was unable to control his nerves.

'It's dad,' Gaara said.

Kankuro flinched. 'Did you...?'

For the first time in a long time, Temari registered an emotional response from her younger brother before a verbal one. His face blanched, eyes widening for a moment in clear alarm. It was only at that point that he even seemed to consider his appearance. Looking down at his clothes, he blinked at the realisation.

'No,' he said, his voice rough as though hurt.

He was visibly irritated; it felt like a match had been struck. They were all tense now, although Temari had no clue why Gaara was on edge. He regarded them both with quiet nothingness, so she watched him in return, waiting for some flicker of an expression to prove he was lying, or for any slight twitch of his fingers. But he was still.

Everything in the room, besides the tumultuous sand storm outside, was very still.

'How can we believe that?'

He looked at his sister, a light frown creasing his brow.

_I don't know_ , he seemed to say. Or was it? The more she considered his perplexity, the more it looked like guilt.

With an abrupt movement, Kankuro returned to his seat at the edge of the bed, breaking their silent communication.

'Dad's dead, isn't he?'

Gaara turned to face him without hesitation. 'Baki and others... they found him in the desert.'

'Dead?' Kankuro repeated.

A nod.

'I thought so.'

An intense pain struck her chest, but Temari didn't cry. She wondered for a moment if she had become incapable of shedding tears – children were supposed to get upset when their parents passed away. So why couldn't she feel anything? Why was there nothing by her heart but empty space? Her throat was raw and clagging, but no moisture could be pulled to her eyes.

With his job done, Gaara motioned to leave. Temari stared at the floor as he left, relying on the sound of the latch clicking to know that he was definitely gone. Kankuro was just as motionless, until she caught him rubbing his arm across his face.

Grains of sand hit the window glass, the storm still raging as the daylight began to wane. Even though rain was so rare in the deserts of Suna, Temari was sure that that was how it would have sounded drenching the panes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Thank you so much once again for the reviews, your patience and everything else, it means so much. Otherwise, I hope my efforts to increase the pace a little work out. Any feedback and comments are really appreciated, as this is my first time writing (and attempting to finish) a longer piece like this one...  
> Edit: Typos, minor errors. I'm so sorry! I think I was half asleep when I uploaded this...


	7. Chapter 7

Splashing her face with cold water, Temari checked herself over in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, her skin blotched red. She dabbed at her face with a drying cloth, somewhat thankful for being awake so late at night when nobody would be able to see her like this.

Midnight was fast approaching; she learnt as much from the clock in the bedroom. Time seemed to be slipping through her fingers like the water she'd left to drain in the basin. The gurgling of the plug was twice as loud in the silence of the early hour.

Walking around this late wasn't advisable, but she wasn't anticipating sleep to befall her now. Amongst settling feelings of grief, her growling stomach was keeping her up. Getting something to eat would be a distraction if anything. Even if it was the last thing she felt like doing.

So much had happened in the past twenty four hours that it was hard to remember the details. Sunagakure's surrender and apology to the Leaf had been dealt with now that the villagers knew the fate of their missing Kazekage. Dates for his burial had already been discussed, as well as how to conduct the service, but Temari found herself unwilling to participate in any of it.

_Just do whatever you think is best._

It was all she was saying as of late.

Her only responsibility was to attend, and make sure both of her brothers attended, and that was how she wanted it. She had no room in her mind to think about flowers, songs or speeches. It was too fractured with grief.

As she wandered the dark corridors, she felt like a trespasser. Technically, they had no right to stay within the main building, but it had been their home longer than any of the siblings could remember. Until a new Kazekage was elected, Temari had no intentions of moving. It was just another thing she wanted to avoid thinking about.

Living with several floors between herself and Gaara was worrying enough. The idea of relocating to a smaller apartment where chance encounters were more likely was something she'd rather not make into a reality. It wasn't just his irritability that put her off, but the bloodlust, the 'conversations', the increased possibility of witnessing his return from a fresh kill.

She still couldn't decide if his plea of innocence a few days before had been genuine. These kinds of situations were something their father had always protected them from. So despite her worry, she hadn't mentioned it to their teacher.

Baki had been the one to officially confirm the news that Gaara had brought to them hours before his arrival. Their father had been found mutilated and abandoned in the deserts, his guards all disposed of. He hadn't even made it to the Leaf village; he wasn't the one watching them in the arena. Temari didn't know how to feel about that. She couldn't accurately remember the last time she'd seen him. Just like how she couldn't remember ever telling him she appreciated him. Or that she loved him.

He had been a difficult man to live with, cold and often cutting himself off from any emotional endeavour. But that hadn't ever challenged their bond as father and daughter.

She learnt that, as soon as his disappearance had been realised, a patrol had taken to the sands to find any trace of his last whereabouts. Following the Third Kazekage's ongoing MIA status, finding the Fourth's body had become an immediate priority.

Yet one of the first things Baki expressed had been doubt at his youngest student being the culprit.

'We were betrayed by the Sound,' he had admitted to Temari. 'Seems we were so worried about Gaara disrupting the plan that we paid no attention to the disaster unfolding at home.'

Temari knew her brother was capable of a lot of things, but patricide had never crossed her mind as being one of them.

Their father was the only person he had ever been openly afraid of.

Passing a line of circular windows, Temari shivered at a cold draught. One of the windows had been left open, the corridor chilled as if it were encased in ice. She paused for a moment to look out over the rooftops of the village.

The night was still except for the sand drifts carried with the breeze. Despite the late hour, there were house lights glowing in the distance. Everything had been so quiet since their return from Konoha. The village's usual vibrancy existed in ghosts of sound and the repetition of routine. It was hard to believe that things would get better, but Suna thrived under hardship and unease. The coveted civilisation, surrounded by sparse dunes and the heat of the sun, had become accustomed to the tumultuous ways of its land. This was another storm that they were prepared to ride out.

But it was difficult to remember that when all seemed lost.

Being the elder sibling wasn't anything new, but Temari felt too young to take the lead. It had been her position for a long time; she had just never had to notice it before. She tried to comfort herself, knowing that she would never be alone. Kankuro was close enough to her in age to take joint responsibility in their family affairs.

Although she hadn't seen him since Gaara's visit, she knew it would be best to leave him to himself. Kankuro was mostly unashamed of his emotions, but had he wanted her support, he would have sought it by now. Once his melancholy had lifted, the status quo would resume. He would expect her to be the strong one, and for the first time in her life, Temari feared letting him down.

Battling the chill, she pulled the window closed, locking it to the frame with a flick of the latch. It was so old now that the metal had rusted; loosened flakes of it clung to her skin along with the strong scent of iron. Too heartsick to even think about food, she wondered about returning to bed. Until the sound of light footsteps pulled her attention to the end of the hallway.

'You're up early.'

'I'm always up early,' she said lamely.

Temari drew a sigh of relief to see their teacher, and not somebody she'd rather not bump into. As Baki drew level with her, he looked out onto the village as she had done moments earlier.

'It's one in the morning,' he reminded her. 'But never mind... I need to speak to you about something.'

'If it's about the service -'

'It's about a mission.'

Temari almost took a step back in surprise. 'A mission?'

He must have heard the incredulity of her tone. For a moment, he seemed to consider what he'd said, directing his gaze to the floor as he attempted to backtrack.

'It's nothing major,' he assured. 'It's just something to keep you all focused. We can't neglect our duties, even at this time.'

'Can't anybody else do it?'

The hairs on her arms stood on end, her skin prickled with goosebumps. She had to admit that it wasn't like her to deny a direct order. Shinobi weren't supposed to question their given tasks. The attack on Konoha was enough proof of her belief in that - despite her reservations, she had gone ahead and done as asked. There was no negotiating these things.

Baki frowned with concern, but he wasn't going to budge on the issue.

'I'm asking you, Kankuro and Gaara to do it,' he said. 'It's low-ranking, simple. I think it'll be good for the three of you.'

Although she couldn't agree with his reasoning, it was better to remain silent and take the mission than try to stir up an argument. After all, one thing she had never been able to fault was Baki's kindness. Something told her that he wasn't doing this to be tough on them.

Temari noticed how tired he looked - he was no less affected by the Fourth Kazekage's death than anybody else in the village. But his closer relationship to their father had to speak for something. They weren't best friends by any means, but the nature of their work often had them in contact.

On top of that, the higher tiers of the village hierarchy were now in chaos, scrabbling to find a replacement leader and bickering amongst themselves about what kind of future Sunagakure could have in the aftermath of their failure to Konoha.

It was no surprise Baki looked so worn out, nor felt that he could rely on them to take up a petty mission that would be better out of his mind than stuck there as a burden.

'One of the guards at the entrance has gone missing for over a few days now,' Baki explained, in regards to the mission. 'His family have put in a request to have him found.'

If there was one thing Suna didn't need, it was another missing shinobi.

'He was stationed at the entrance to prevent passage in the desert whilst the sands were being combed for...'

Baki cleared his throat. Temari tried not to pay too much attention to the topic they were avoiding. She couldn't risk crying in front of her teacher, of all people.

'Anyway,' he continued, 'somebody who lives on the outskirts thinks she might have seen something. As soon as you're ready - and at a reasonable hour - I'd like you to take a statement from her.'

'Is he someone of importance?' Temari quizzed. 'Someone who might have had enemies?'

'He was a watchman,' Baki said. 'Nothing more or less.'

With all of their personal problems, she couldn't help but feel that this mission was an insult to herself and her siblings. They were overqualified for it if anything, and she could only imagine the reaction she would get from Gaara when briefing him. He had been known in the past to resist a task if he felt it wasn't worth his time, and dragging him along despite his feelings didn't often bode well for anyone to test his temper.

Yet at the same time, she knew what it was like to fret over a missing family member. The watchman could have been a father himself, or a beloved sibling. If - heaven forbid - Gaara or Kankuro disappeared, she would hate to think anyone would regard it as trivial. If the shinobi of the sand could rally together to help search for her missing father, then who was she to abandon a fellow villager going through the same trial.

'I'll brief the other two as soon as they're awake,' Temari said to her teacher.

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, offering a solemn nod. Believing that the exchange was over, she gave a brief wave and turned back in the direction from which she came.

'Oh, and...'

As she looked to Baki again, he seemed uncomfortable beneath her gaze.

'The three of you might want to consider a temporary accommodation outside of the mansion,' he said. 'In your own time, of course.'

His words left in a rush, his distaste for the news clear. She supposed if they could have it their way, they would remain here even with a new Kazekage taking the offices on the higher floors.

This was their home.

But they had no more right to be here than anybody else with their father gone. If the mansion was opened for their sake, then they might as well start renting rooms out to the public. Not everybody in Sunagakure was lucky enough to have a solid roof over their head.

Temari stood in silence, deep in thought. To live, they would have to rely on their wages from missions, which would barely cover their needs even with the addition of a small benefit from the council.

As Baki began to walk away, she wondered if that was the reason behind his harsh orders.

From this point on, the siblings would need all of the help they could get, and Suna wasn't the kind of place to over-extend itself where aid was concerned. There were barely enough missions for the Sand shinobi as it was... really, Baki had done them a favour by getting them something that just about anyone could look into.

 

* * *

 

Starved of sleep, Kankuro didn't see the point in being starved of food as well. Even though he didn't feel like eating, he forced his breakfast down with a glass of water and hoped it would stay put. It was strange knowing that the day would go on and he wouldn't see his main parent during in it. That he would never see his father from this point onward, ever again.

Even stranger was knowing that he hadn't seen him for months now. He had talked to the Kazekage's imposter about such mundane, unnecessary things, and not once had he ever thought that it wasn't his father sitting there. The idea of carefully considering his last words to the man before his death, were nothing but a vague worry that might sometimes arise late at night or as he contemplated the fragility of life. Not something he would have to dwell on so suddenly, and so soon in his own lifetime.

What _was_ the last thing he had ever said to his father? All he could be sure of was that there had been no mention of love or affection. No mention at all of what the man meant to him, and especially nothing about how much he resented some of the choices he'd made on their behalf in life.

There had been many-a-time he'd thought that Gaara might not have been lost to himself and Temari if they had only been raised together as children.

But that was all in the past now, and the longer he spent thinking about it, the less well he felt.

Although part of that was looking up and seeing none other than his younger brother sitting at the table with him.

Silent, as always.

He had no food in front of him, nothing but a ceramic cup of something warm enough to breathe heat fumes into the air. Tea, coffee? Kankuro wouldn't even know what he liked to drink at such a time in the morning.

The sun had only just risen, the soft light lending a gentle glow to the kitchen bench tops and smooth stone cupboards.

'Are you... alright?'

Once he'd said it, he didn't know why he had. What was he expecting? A deep, bonding conversation with Gaara? Like that would ever happen. And even though he secretly longed for the question to be sent back in return, Kankuro knew that the only thing his sibling might feel about their father's death was relief. Either that, or joy. They had never had any relationship between them, so there was nothing for him to mourn for.

'You've had your wound healed,' Kankuro observed, in an effort to change the topic.

He gestured to the space on his own chest where Gaara had been hit with the Uchiha's Chidori, receiving a blank stare in return. If he was even going to answer, he was distracted from doing so, condemning the moment to a missed opportunity.

The door opened with a creak, and Temari stalked into the room only to stop in her tracks with muted surprise.

'Good morning.'

'Hey.'

He thought to ask her how she was feeling, knowing that he would get a response, and also knowing that she would say she was fine because if there was one thing Temari never did, it was let on to her true feelings. He envied her stoicism, her ability - not too unlike Gaara's - to keep her stronger emotions in check and behave as if they never existed.

But Kankuro felt he could draw strength from her control - if she could show restraint, then he felt inspired to do the same. She set the standard to which he should conform, and that wasn't any different now. He decided against asking after her feelings, preferring to gloss over them before they made him suffer again.

After running herself a glass of water, Temari joined her brothers at the table, tense in the awkward atmosphere that cemented them.

'Oh,' she murmured, as if suddenly remembering something. 'Baki has a mission for us.'

'What kind of mission?'

Kankuro couldn't help but feel it was too soon for them to be expected to adapt, no matter how intense their emotional training had been from the start of their tutelage. Baki was ruthless in battle, but it was unlike him to push them at a time like this.

'It's a search-party type task,' she explained. 'A watchman from the entrance has gone missing and we have to inquire about it with a witness.'

'Oh, c'mon,' Kankuro answered gruffly, 'anybody could do that.'

Just with a quick glance over the table, he knew that none of them were up to the task in either physical or mental state. They might have had time to heal and rest up, but the emotional wounds were going to take a while to disappear.

Surely no villager would begrudge them turning down a search mission when they were still reeling from the discovery of their own missing family member.

Kankuro looked to Gaara, expecting him to at least put up some resistance, but he seemed more distant than ever. He had his arms resting on the table, his hands clenched into fists tight enough to show the bones of his knuckles.

'Gaara, are you okay?' he heard Temari ask.

She sat up in her chair, leaning forwards as if to search for him, but he lowered his chin to his chest, determined to avoid her eyes.

'Tell Baki to give the mission to somebody else,' Kankuro said.

'He's trying to help us,' she returned, 'We need to move out of the mansion and our savings won't keep us forever.'

He clicked his tongue, directing his scowl at the floor so as not to make Temari feel at fault. She was only relaying Baki's message, and as far as their finances were concerned, taking on any mission they could get made sense. It wasn't that he hadn't considered this himself, but grief had left him in a fog over the past few days. It had made it hard to acknowledge these minor worries beyond the uncertainty and pain of losing his only parent.

And either Gaara was taking it worse than he first thought, or there was something else bothering their younger brother. His quietness wasn't uncharacteristic, but this deathly silence wasn't Kankuro's most favoured state to see him in either. It was almost certainly like he was trapped in his own thoughts Spending all of his energy and attention on the monster that hassled him.

Although he had never worked up the courage to ask about it, Kankuro had always wondered about the 'conversations' Gaara would routinely have with the Shukaku. What did they say to one another? Was it all one-sided? Either way, he couldn't shake his uncertainties about this situation.

Kankuro tried to tell himself that the possession could still be affecting him, that the death of the Kazekage could have moved Gaara enough to be suffering with genuine emotion. That was what he wanted to believe.

He just wasn't sure he could. And that belief seemed further away than ever when he looked up to see Temari glaring her suspicions directly at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Wrote this chapter a little longer than usual... sorry for updating so late...! Thank you once again for the kind words and interest, bbut I think you might be flattering me too much ha ha! Either way, I'm happy that people are enjoying this story and I hope I can continue to make it enjoyable...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: I'm so sorry for the delay... Being honest, I lost motivation for this story a little while back... I was afraid people wouldn't like it, I guess ha ha... I've had this chapter written up for a while anyway, so I figured there'd be no harm in posting it. Uhm, so... if people want me to continue, I'll happily do that. Otherwise, thank you so much for your support/reviews, etc. It means so much to me, you really have no idea...

_We'll meet outside the mansion in half an hour._

She'd said that over two hours ago.

Waiting for Gaara at the beginning of a mission wasn't uncommon. For whatever reason, his time-keeping had always been off. Whether it was his concept that was lacking, or his attitude, neither of the siblings could be sure.

All Temari knew was that it bordered on annoying when they were left waiting in the heat for longer than expected.

Kankuro was leaning against the wall, bathed in shade. She had to admit that he was being uncharacteristically quiet, but what else could she expect? He might have noticed things about her that weren't normal behaviours; that was the strange thing about grief.

So locked in darkness, it became difficult to see how much of an effect it was having.

'Do you think we should just go ahead on our own?'

It was almost midday, the sun hanging low in the sky and breathing stagnant warmth over the village. Loud chatter from the markets existed in the background, the lack of a breeze in the air making everything seem unrealistically still.

Temari tried swallowing to wet her throat, and ran the palm of her hand over the back of her neck to un-stick her hair.

'Maybe we should look for him,' Kankuro answered.

He kicked away from the wall, stretching his hands up over his head and easing the stiffness from his back.

'He wouldn't get lost,' Temari said.

'I'm not saying he's lost,' Kankuro said. 'I just think...'

'What?'

It wasn't that she couldn't understand what he was getting at. She had noticed it too, after all. His behaviour at the breakfast table. If it could even be called that.

Gaara didn't ever behave, it seemed he merely existed. He was too still and composed to be accused of reacting, too silent and dead in the eyes to be thoughtful. Temari often wondered if he was as lifeless on the inside as he portrayed himself on the outside.

But there were things she had learnt to watch for over the years, little subtleties that told her there was something not quite right about him. The main things to look out for had once been 'conversations', aggravated breathing or the squeak of the cork in his gourd unscrewing out of place.

Now, she couldn't quite decide if his silence at the table had been characteristic or a sign of something else.

And Kankuro seemed to be just as confused.

'I want to talk to him,' he decided.

'You think you'll get a conversation out of him?'

It was a fair question, not intended to sound so difficult. There were just some things that became a wasted effort around Gaara, and trying to talk to him was one of them.

'There's no harm in trying.'

Temari sighed, wilting beneath the heat already. Probably something to do with her inability to eat properly; everyone knew that not keeping hydrated in this climate was asking for trouble.

'I'll talk to the witness,' she said. 'We can't afford to lose this mission.'

Quite literally, they couldn't. No matter how simple it was.

'I'll let you know when I find Gaara,' Kankuro said. 'Brief us on what you've learnt and we'll go from there.'

She nodded, offering a brisk wave before turning towards the main street. With the address memorised, she made for the house on the outskirts of the village.

 

* * *

 

This far out, successful traders were few and residential areas many. There were more derelict buildings here than anywhere else, the structures in desperate need of repair. Temari was thankful for the shade cast by the awkward layout of the houses; some were crammed so tightly together, built one on top of the other, that it was hard to tell where one part ended and the others began.

A lot of the village's poorer residents lived far out, away from all of the commerce and trading that captivated the centre. Also it was a given that, if the village was attacked, these houses would be the first to feel the wrath of whatever force was invading.

Temari moved through the thin, rickety streets, passing children playing in the dust and the elderly sitting outdoors for relief from the stifling heat. She walked until she reached a dead-end, the entrance to a set of flats sitting right before her. Looking up at the balconies overhead, she noticed the tower reached quite a height – enough to drench the area in full shade as it blocked out the sun's rays.

She rapped her knuckles against the door, waiting patiently for an answer. The landlord was quick to respond.

'I'm here to speak to the woman who lives in Flat 5,' Temari said. 'On request.'

He opened the door a little wider, recognition widening his eyes from the wrinkled caverns that hid them.

'Lady Temari,' he said.

As she had gotten older, that had become one of two reactions to expect from the general public whenever she found herself in their presence.

Ensuring good relations with all of the village residents had been one of her duties – they could hardly blame her for not trying to unite them and better Sunagakure's prospects for budding ahinobi. Even as she stood at this doorway, her plea to start structured lessons amongst Sungakure youths was awaiting discussion amongst the council.

It had been an idea she had pitched to her father long before the Konoha invasion, and something which had inevitably taken a backseat when plans for that fell underway.

'You're a long way from home,' the man said.

Temari kept her posture rigid, her gaze as empty as she could make it.

'I'm here as part of a mission. You're obligated to assist and comply.'

'They don't usually send your type out here, is what I mean,' he said, his voice strained with age. 'Your father much preferred to let that monster of his roam these parts.'

Temari maintained her even stare, but inside, her mind was rioting against it. There was no denying that Gaara was on the outskirts of the village – or directly outside of it – more often than he was ever where he should have been, that being near the mansion. His difficult relationship with their father could have been part of that, but it was more that he had been allowed to roam as he pleased for a long time.

She had always supposed that he had preferred being far away from the centre of the village, but that in itself had presented its own risks.

For as susceptible to enemy attack these parts were, they didn't just have their geographical position to blame for their neglected state.

The truth was, Gaara has been picking off villagers here for longer than anyone could even remember.

'Come in,' the landlord said, shuffling back a few steps. 'I'll let the lady in Flat 5 know you're here.'

Temari stepped into the cool building, glancing at her immediate surroundings as she was led towards a low desk at the back of the room. There were faded paintings on the walls, worn chairs dotted around the place, and a set of crooked lockers to her right. A resident stood beside them, sifting through the letters that were kept inside. He side-eyed her, but made no effort to form a greeting.

Soon enough, she was given passage up the stairs, the climb taking her right to the top of the block. A soft breeze rolled in through the open window at the end of the corridor, her attention drawn to the view of the village beyond. From here, she could see the round shape of the mansion, the cluttered, compact buildings that led all the way up to it.

She didn't have to knock on the witness' door – she was already standing with it held open, her free hand resting her weight against the frame.

'I wasn't expecting one of the Kazekage's children,' she said.

Temari tried not to roll her eyes. She hadn't been here five minutes, and already there had been more than one person to act like she was a sheltered princess on her first day out of her castle.

'I'm here to collect the information you have about the missing watchman,' Temari explained.

'I know why you're here,' the woman said. 'Maybe it's a good thing.'

The witness moved away from the door, beckoning her into the room that lay beyond. She lived in a cramped, over-decorated place, a set of wind chimes hanging from the low ceiling being the first thing that Temari almost bumped into.

Rather than follow the woman's lead and shuffle through the things she was hoarding, Temari thought it would be best to wait by the door.

'Or it could be a bad thing,' the witness rambled as she headed for the stove.

A full kettle whistled steam from its spout, the boiling water inside almost moving it from the gas ring.

'Are you talking about the watchman?' Temari asked.

The faster she could get the information and leave, the better. She watched the woman pour the hot water into two cups, her hands shaking violently from the weight of the kettle.

'I'm talking about you,' she said, in her gravelly voice. 'About you being here.'

Temari thought back on what she'd heard the woman say, wondering aloud about what she could possibly mean.

'Why would it be a bad thing...?'

Her guard was already raised; that was an automatic thing. Never would she wander into an unfamiliar place without considering her options first. But something told her that she didn't have to worry about the frail, older woman now walking towards her, one arm outstretched to offer her a warm tea.

Temari took the cup in her hands, holding it close to her chest.

'Because,' the witness said, ambling over to a seat, 'you're not going to like what I have to say.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Thank you for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Oh, wow, thank you so much for the lovely reviews...! They really made my day. Posting this chapter now because I hope to update weekly if I can. I hope it's okay; please feel free to leave feedback if you want.

If a mistake pushed a person back, then surely the only response was to push against it. A long time ago, that used to mean pushing people away for Gaara. That used to mean safeguarding himself, to prevent more mistakes from happening. The kind of mistakes he used to make were being trustful of others or allowing someone close enough to hurt him. Everything was the opposite way around now.

He stood on the outskirts of a crowd, a dusty building looming before him. Leaning in the shadows, he avoided the stares and remarks, but not the anticipation of getting them.

As shinobi, Gaara knew that he and his siblings had been sheltered. In a village like Suna, there were more ninjas than active missions. He had been lucky in some ways to have been the Kazekage's son. Lucky that he had been thought of as a precious weapon, and not just a dispensable villager. Although it had been for the wrong reasons, there had been times when he _had_ mattered to his family, and to the village of Suna. His relation to the Kazekage had granted him expert training, only the best in everything, and an exclusive choice of missions available to him from a young age.

Now, he stood amongst the men and women who made up the vast majority of Suna's shinobi force. These people had worked hard to get where they were; they had gradually climbed the ladder from D-ranks to the higher tiers, without nepotism granting them a leg up. They were the public; a mix of ranks, these shinobi were an arm of the Kazekage, to be extended in all areas: For internal policing, coalitions with allies and then of course, conquest.

Gaara stepped into their domain, the walls of his mind raised and ready to take a beating. He looked ahead, avoiding all eye contact, pacing towards the sign-up desk where a number of yet-to-be-graduated rookies waited eagerly to sign up for the test to become Genin. The veterans around them basked in the shade granted by Suna's tall buildings, cooling off with drinks and boxed meals, awaiting instructions for their next assignments.

Heads turned, low voices muttered in quick, hushed exchanges, but nobody dared say or do anything loud enough to catch Gaara's full attention. He joined the back of the line, ignoring everyone around him as though blinkered. The shinobi-to-be in front of him bristled, looking over her shoulder and stiffly setting herself right when she realised who was behind her. The only way he knew how to deal with fear was to meet it head on, to stare without wavering and hold his position as stubbornly as he could.

One by one, the crowd diminished, until he was at the desk, the sign-up forms laid out across it. There were various rosters; team-reassignment seemed to be the one that fitted with the kind of thing he was going for. Gaara reached for a pen, dipping the tip in the waiting pot of ink.

'L-Lord Gaara.'

As he raised his eyes to the woman sitting across from him, she tensed all over. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face and she couldn't hold his gaze to speak to him.

'This is a sign-up tent for members of the regular force.'

'I know,' he said.

He proceeded to print his name into the box, her nervous gestures flickering in his peripherals. She was trying to engage her colleague, who was all but out of his seat and ready to bolt. Then she pushed back her chair, arms stiff by her side.

'Lord Kankuro!' she cried. 'Thank goodness.'

Gaara turned to look behind himself, seeing his brother jogging towards the sign-up tent. His hat was askew, the crow bobbing up and down behind his shoulders. Waving one arm, Kankuro shouted Gaara's name over and over until he was close enough to consider stopping. With a rigid movement, Gaara put his back to his brother. He finished off his signature, steeped in a brew of mortification so deep that he almost felt his cheeks burn up with heat.

'Did you forget about our mission?' Kankuro asked, breathless.

'No...'

'Then what are you doing here?'

Gaara clutched the pen tighter, feeling the weakness of it in his grip. If he wasn't careful, he'd snap it in half. Mindful of that fact, he slapped it down onto the desk, shoulders raised as he stalked away from the tent. Kankuro was on his heels, keeping up even though Gaara made an effort to draw his strides out at a fast pace.

'Where are you going now?' Kankuro complained. 'We have a mission, you know. What were you doing at the sign-up tent?'

In an effort to lose him, Gaara slipped into a narrow alleyway, shown to him by the startled movement of two boys no older than him; they had been lounging with their backs to the wall at either side, enjoying the shade. Gaara could hear Kankuro tripping over himself to follow, and clicking his tongue in frustration.

'Slow down, would you?!' he snapped, biting back a growl.

Kankuro grabbed Gaara by the shoulder, holding a handful of his clothes. They came to a stop at an opening, the thick crowds of the market filtering past. Sheets were hung out to dry overhead, flapping in the gentle breeze, the sharp rays of the sun cut off by a taller building that held the alley in shadow.

Kankuro let go of him then, and when Gaara turned to grace him with an answer, he saw his brother leaning forwards, hands on his knees. The walking and running must have been killing him in the midday heat. Wiping an arm across his forehead, Kankuro took off his hat, running his hands through his hair.

'You're supposed to listen to me, you know,' he said, gesturing to himself. ' _Older_ brother, remember?'

'I'm joining the regular forces.'

It was better to avoid any preamble. Besides, Gaara thought he'd made it clear that, youngest brother or not, he wasn't going to take orders from...

He stopped the thought before he could finish it.

Kankuro raised his eyebrows, lips parting with muted shock.

'What?' he hissed. 'Why?'

Gaara considered his answer carefully. What were the chances of his siblings finding out what he had done to the watchman? Very likely, if Temari was on the case. She wasn't here, so he could only guess that the mission was going ahead without them. He closed his eyes, concentrating.

'Are you being serious?' Kankuro struggled. 'This isn't some kind of... I mean, after dad... I've been meaning to ask you if –'

He continued to stumble over his words, and Gaara paid no attention. In the end, coming up with an answer was difficult, twice as difficult with his brother babbling away in earshot. It was like every action he'd made since returning to Suna had laid down a net, one beneath his feet that was gathering up under him by the second. Soon enough, Temari would return, knowing what he had done. Then Kankuro would continue to pressure him with questions about his motives, what he was planning. And what if this time, there was no protection for him? He had killed somebody, which wasn't anything new, but the circumstances were different now. The villagers had always chafed under his murderous tendencies, sat back and took it without ever raising a weapon to him outside of an attack.

What if the Kazekage had always been that very thin line that stopped another villager taking his assassination into their own hands?

It was only ever the ANBU or his father's personal assistants who had been sent to kill him, Gaara now realised. The destruction of the Shukaku had likely always been the Kazekage's mission, and his mission alone.

If Temari knew about what he had done by now, and she likely did... why would she want to do anything other than the _right_ thing? Reporting the information, making it known that her brother had, yet again, put an end to the life of an innocent villager.

Who would be there to stop a mob from accumulating then?

Lifting his hand, Gaara activated the sand shunshin, separating himself from Kankuro until he was a whole street away. He pressed back against a wall, the gourd scraping over the stone. Taking a deep breath, he dared to look out from his hiding place. Kankuro was out amongst the crowds, scanning the area with one hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Retreating back into the shade, Gaara geared himself to jump up onto a thin ledge, balancing with a cat-like grace once he'd made the leap until he could ascend further. On the rooftops, after looking down at everything beneath him, he turned to look at the great walls that sealed Suna within the desert.

He could see the dunes mounting the horizon, the burning sun sinking in the sky as the morning bled into a red afternoon. With a leap, he moved forwards, and returned to his second home.

The vast and vacant sands that had made a monster of him in the first place.

 

* * *

  

'You'll never guess what –'

'Really?'

Kankuro paused at the doorway to Temari's room, midstride. She didn't turn to look at him, instead busied herself with clearing out her dressing table.

'I think I'm pretty good at guessing,' she said.

Leaning against the frame with one hand, Kankuro watched her collecting up her things and unceremoniously shoving them into the waiting bags on the floor. He decided to keep his news for later, until after she had calmed down. She already had three packs made up on her bed, her belongings stuffed inside.

'What's the rush?' he asked.

'The sooner we move, the better,' she said. 'And you need to find Baki and ask him to elect us for as many missions as possible.'

'Did you find anything out about the missing watchman?'

Temari had her back to him. She was busy scooping a selection of hair ties out of her dresser, one hand still in the drawer as she froze up.

'No,' she said.

It took a moment, but her shoulders relaxed out of their stiff hold. Kankuro noticed how tense she was, but her skill at covering her emotions wasn't lacking. When she angled her face to look behind herself at where he stood, her hair covered over her eyes, but her voice was clear and confident.

'I didn't get anything.'

Reaching deep into the back of the drawer, she dredged up the last few bobby pins and bangles she owned before scooping them into a little pile in her open palm. Kankuro decided it would be best to keep his tongue. She spun to face him, irritated by his loitering more than she would have been usually.

'Are you expecting your puppets to pack themselves?' she snipped. 'Get going.'

Rolling his eyes, Kankuro pushed away from the door frame.

'What about Gaara's things?' he said. 'I saw him earlier, but he –'

'Let _him_ figure it out,' she argued. 'I'm too busy to worry about Gaara right now.'

She held her hands out at each side, gesturing to the state of her room. There were still some clothes laid out on the bed to be folded and put away, and she hadn't even started with her weapons and other belongings. Shaking his head, Kankuro walked down the corridor, passing by the circular windows that looked out over the village.

There had only been one witness... if they hadn't seen anything worth listening to, then why would Baki have pointed them in that direction?

Standing in the hallway, he could see Temari's shadow moving over the opposite wall as she paced around her room. He left the corridor, bypassing his own room and deciding to leave the mansion instead. Making sure the Crow was fixed firmly to his back, he wandered through the afternoon warmth to see where his thoughts would take him.

There was no point looking for Gaara. He was good at hiding, especially when he didn't want to be found. Unlike him and Temari, Gaara had built up a better tolerance for Suna's heat, particularly in the parched deserts. If he wanted, he could wander for days; his resourcefulness, and of course the Shukaku, would keep him alive.

Kankuro didn't want to be distrustful of Temari's account of what had happened with the witness, but it was unlike her to return from a mission with no results. Besides, he'd done nothing but waste time all day, and they couldn't afford to fail a task as simple as this one. They had a record to maintain – it wouldn't look good to have something like this tripping them up, especially when they were going to have to fight for their missions from now on.

For so long, they had been handed the best and most challenging assignments without having to lift a finger to obtain them. With their father gone, and the desperation for missions ever on the rise amongst Suna's shinobi, the siblings were going to need everything swinging in their favour to survive.

So why had Gaara even considered breaking away from them to join a new team? It didn't make any sense. It could only end badly.

No... Kankuro was sure, surer of this than anything else: That it _would_ end badly.

It would most definitely end in blood, and in death for whoever drew the short straw on the roster Gaara had signed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Ahh... I don't think anyone is reading this anymore but I spontaneously decided to check this account the other week and felt so, so guilty that so many people had reviewed asking me to continue. I had intended to, and even had this chapter and another partially written (just in need of editing) but life got in the way and I ended up abandoning it. Honestly, I didn't expect anyone would read this story, never mind review it. I'm so pleased that so many other people love the sand sibs as much as I do... Reading your reviews has been such a pleasure... I'm writing this by the seat of my pants which is why I have such little faith in it... however, I will try my best to keep writing where I can. Thank you for the reviews and for your patience.  
> Trigger warning for this chapter: suicide.

_You're not going to like what I have to say._

The plump witness was fixed in her chair, her round fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the arms of it. After a little while, Temari had noticed a pattern, not in the monotonous music-making, but in the items that had her walled in on all sides.

Photographs.

All over the walls and on surfaces exposed, there were photographs. Not the kind taken for a personal keepsake, but frayed and faded pictures cut out of newspapers.

'You love your brother.'

Temari frowned. 'Excuse me?'

'You can't help it, of course. Nobody can ever help loving their family.'

A breeze edging through the open window disturbed the wooden wind chimes; their soft clacking filled in the silence. Temari cleared her throat, her hands still wrapped around the small cup of now-lukewarm tea. Experience taught her not to drink or ingest anything given to her by strangers.

She had since taken a seat, and was opposite the slouching woman she had been ordered to take information from.

'What was it you saw regarding the watchman?' Temari ventured.

The woman caught a laugh in her throat, and ran her fingers beneath her nose with a sniff. Leaning forwards, she rested her elbows on her knees, creating a bridge with her interlocked fingers for her chin to rest upon. It looked like she was gazing out of the window, but it was clear to Temari that she was looking at one of her framed newspaper photographs.

'I saw him die,' she said.

They were both glancing in the direction of the window now, the buildings outside dancing behind heat waves. Temari got up from her seat, making sure to avoid knocking anything over as she approached the sill. She set the tea cup down on the windowsill. From where she stood, looking down at the buildings below, she had a perfect view of the village opening, of the gap in the walls that surrounded Suna.

'The watchman came inside to confront the one who killed him,' the witness went on, 'and then he exploded.'

She spoke with little expression, her words falling from her lips, dead of all feeling.

'Spontaneously?' Temari asked, incredulous. 'You're saying that he just... burst?'

Humming a laugh, she drew back from the window, one hand on her hip. Was this some kind of joke?

Temari glanced around the room, bemused by such a strange act of hoarding. It was very specific; the crushed food boxes, she suddenly realised, were compressed milk cartons with missing faces pasted across them. On the far wall, in the shadows of the kitchen, she could make out a forehead protector left strewn across a bench top. Looking at the woman in the armchair, it was clear her days as a shinobi were long over. She was unfit, comfortable, clearly more preoccupied with collecting old packages and newspapers than maintaining physical prowess.

'His blood was all over,' the witness finally continued, twisting around in her chair to see Temari better. 'But it was all soaked up by the sand.'

Temari's hand slipped from her hip and down to her side. The woman wasn't just confusedly rambling; from the look in her eye, it was clear she intended to pick out that one detail. It was a sight that Temari, and many other villagers, had seen more times than anybody could count. There was just one thing she didn't understand:

'If you knew who did it,' she asked, 'then why didn't you report it immediately?'

A simple report would have saved Temari a journey to the outskirts of the village, saved the watchman's family from having to worry about him being missing when his fate was so clear. The only witness in the case was sat idle, knowing that the man was dead and exactly who had been the one to kill him. Anybody else wouldn't have hesitated.

'I wanted to give you a choice,' the woman tried to explain. She faced forwards again, her head down as she teased the corner of a newspaper between her fingers. 'From one sister to another.'

Temari swallowed, her throat dry. The stifling heat from outside smothered the small apartment from corner to corner, warm sweat sticking at the back of her neck. All of her options rose up in her mind, a range of possibilities.

And none of them ended well.

 

* * *

 

With the afternoon came cooler temperatures, more shade that stretched between the buildings, darkening the stone.

'Looks like this is the place.'

Before he could pull the words back, they were out in the open, and Kankuro realised he was speaking to nobody in particular. Especially not the puppet strapped to his back if anybody was going to ask him about it. Luckily for him, the place was deserted.

He had never spent much time in the outskirts of the village; bringing a map might have made it easier to navigate, or having Gaara around would have also worked. If any of the siblings knew Suna well enough to traverse without asking for directions, it was him.

But after exploring street after street the hard way, Kankuro finally found himself standing before the right building. Since the door was closed, he figured he would have to be allowed into the flat he wanted access to. He had the number memorised, so knocked a few times to get somebody's attention. The sound of voices filtered through the thick, wooden door, but a whole two minutes slipped by and still nobody attended to him.

He knocked again.

Heavy footsteps met him this time, the door swinging back so violently on its hinges that the air was torn with a whoosh and the hinges whined in protest.

'Another one?'

The man, presumably the landlord, was red-faced with anger. Kankuro was unsure of whether he was supposed to take it personally. He'd just been around a few minutes, his only crime to knock on the door.

'You know, your sister was here not so long ago,' the landlord raged before Kankuro could state his business.

'Yeah,' he answered, unsure of himself, 'we're doing mission stuff.'

'Mission stuff?' The landlord's words were sharp, authoritative. 'I suppose 'mission stuff' means attacking my tenants.'

'Are you nuts?' Kankuro stepped down, staggered by surprise. 'Temari would never –'

'Tell that to Flat 5,' he snapped. 'The place is a mess!'

'Hang on just a second –'

'I don't want to hear it,' the landlord said. 'Get out of here, kid, before I call for someone to drag you out!'

_Kid_? Kankuro clicked his tongue and watched helplessly as the landlord shut the door in his face. Dropping down from the steps, he looked up at the tall block of flats. The slamming footfalls of the landlord grew fainter and silence rested once more. Not just any normal kind of quietness, but dead silence, something that couldn't even be moved by the soft breeze whistling through the streets.

Where was everybody? Were the outskirts of the village always so dead in the afternoon? Kankuro had a feeling that returning the next day would make no difference. If he wanted to see the witness – which he did, preferably now – then he would have to find another way in. Luckily, the buildings were so close together that there were numerous options for him to try out. He figured the room number he needed wasn't going to be too far up, so he backtracked along the street, eyes fixed on a flat roof that ran alongside the apartments at the middle. It would be an easy jump from there into any window left open, and in Suna, very few people kept their windows closed.

Being the Kazekage's son also gave him a great advantage: If he happened to leap right into somebody's house, then he could apologise and ask to be pointed in the right direction. Everybody trusted him and Temari.

It was just the other brother they weren't too keen about.

Trying to keep focused, Kankuro made sure he was a good distance from the building before scaling another to get level with the apartments. The soles of his sandals scraped over the dry tiles, his footing light and careful as he jogged back to where he needed to be. He looked upwards once again, glad for the sinking sun so that he didn't have to shield his eyes. There was a line of windows facing him, equally spaced apart. The dive towards the one most adjacent to him was easy.

It was opened as far as it would go. Kankuro kicked off from the flat roof, balancing well enough on the sill, the first step to his entrance. Leaning down to peer inside the building, he realised it led right into a hallway. Relieved, he slipped through the gap, making sure that the Crow wasn't going to clatter against the frame and betray him to the landlord. He was only two floors up, and slinking into the shadowed hallway, he stopped at a railing that overlooked a descending staircase.

From there, Kankuro could hear the landlord's voice although he couldn't make out anything that was being said. The man was making an effort to keep his voice low despite the baritone deepness of it.

Spinning to face the line of doors behind him, Kankuro checked the numbers: Nine, Eight, Seven. The room he needed to be in was another floor below. On tiptoes, he crept towards the mouth of the staircase, testing the first step.

It was fine until he rested his full weight on it. An audible creak split the air. His shoulders lifted with shock when the landlord responded to it.

'I told you all to stay in your rooms!'

Holding his breath, Kankuro froze still. Any moment now, he was anticipating a run-in with the one person he needed to avoid. Seconds slid by. Perhaps a whole minute. The landlord's mutterings continued.

Not even daring to breathe out, Kankuro edged down one step at a time. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he peered around the wall to see a corridor not too unlike the one he had just left behind. The coast was clear, the muffled talk of the landlord still reaching him. To Kankuro, it didn't necessarily matter where he was, so long as it wasn't on this floor.

The numbers on the doors continued in reverse order: Five, Four, Three. On this occasion, he didn't think he would need to knock. Everyone had to stay in their rooms – they likely wouldn't answer him anyway. So he approached the fifth flat and pushed down on the handle, creating a gap just wide enough for him to slip into the room. He had a gracious apology prepared, a plea that he just needed five minutes to speak to her, as a witness, and then he would leave, no questions asked.

His whole body was tense with the expectation of frightening someone. Once the door was closed behind him, he spun to face what he thought would be a confused-looking person, their hands up in surrender, mouth agape and ready to shout out for the landlord.

Instead, his eyes fell on an armchair kicked askew, a shadow dropped beneath something hanging from the beams above. He covered his mouth, averted his eyes. The next thing he saw was the window open wide, the thin, lace drapes caught by the breeze.

The beam the woman had hung herself from creaked as her body rocked in a gentle sway. Kankuro tensed at the sound of voices directly outside.

'She's just in here - real shaken though.'

He looked for a place to hide without hesitation, only asking himself why when he was in the next room, a small bedroom, lying on the floor alongside the overflowing floral print of stuffy old bed sheets. Moments ago he'd been confident that the villagers trusted him. That the only son of the Kazekage they would ever question would be Gaara.

Of course, it was always bad news to be found standing next to a dead body. Even if the witness had put herself there, he couldn't risk being associated.

Not when Temari already was.

He kept his breaths controlled, easing the air in and out through his lips. What was she playing at? They were in big trouble, serious, serious trouble, and for once it didn't appear to be Gaara's fault.

Kankuro's heart hammered so hard against his ribs he could hear the dull thump of it against the floorboards when he lay his head down. The landlord cursed and uttered shocked expletives in the next room.

'She was f-fine a minute ago,' he stammered, 'she was alive!'

'Search the area,' an unknown voice said.

'Looks like the assailant escaped through the window,' another pointed out.

'Then get out there!' the landlord cried. 'Find them!'

Kankuro sighed with relief when he heard the clatter of their wooden sandals against the floorboards. The landlord lingered for just a moment, drawing ragged breaths, the metal doorhandle rattling as he clasped it with shaken hands. After a long moment, Kankuro was sure that he had been left alone.

'Great,' he murmured, his cheek pressed to the cold floor.

A warm sweat sprung up beneath his armpits, stuck hair to the back of his neck. What was he supposed to do now? Temari hadn't exactly given him a detailed brief of her encounter with the witness. And now that witness was dead.

A low-ranking mission, Baki had said. Kankuro gritted his teeth. This wouldn't be the first time that a simple mission had turned to something way more complicated than it was supposed to be.


	11. Chapter 11

It was all about exercising control, which was hard to do when there were two voices in his mind.

One voice was his. A very quiet, very suppressed voice... but still his.

The other belonged to the Shukaku.

Gaara's independent will was easily weakened. The Bijuu committed all of his time to enforcing his own thoughts and feelings over his vessel's. Unending bloodlust. Unadulterated hatred. The frustration at being trapped, which was the hardest thing to ignore.

With every second of every day, Shukaku wanted to be out. When he was much younger, Gaara thoroughly believed the Ichibi wanted to ruin him as a vessel so that it could be free... why else would it torment him? Sometimes, the anxiety that had kept him awake at night convinced him he'd die if he dared go to sleep.

But a realisation had since dawned. The lack of sleep, the desperate need for blood and death... it was all part of the Shukaku's efforts to make him into an obedient servant; its own warped brand of self-preservation.

Over the years, Gaara had been a very good servant indeed.

He had overheard countless conversations between the higher-ups. Their exasperation that there was nothing and no one in the world who could control the Kazekage's ruthless vagabond of a son.

Yet there had always been one entity in the world that Gaara couldn't rebel against.

At least until now.

A low rumbling laugh greeted the thought as soon as it had formed in his mind. He stood tall against it; for once, Gaara was determined not to fold under the pressure of the Shukaku's threats and power.

_Your sister will know the truth by now_ , the Ichibi rumbled. _The minute you return to Sunagakure, they'll string you up! You'll need me then._

The heat of the desert was too harsh to sit under, not with midday barely having passed over. Gaara had trekked as far away from the village as he could stand. His flask of water was long since empty and whilst he knew there were ways he could keep himself hydrated even in the merciless desert, the plan wasn't to stay out for long. This wasn't a survival exercise.

He covered his eyes from the relentless glow of the sun and circled a large rock formation until he was in shade cool and deep enough to protect himself from the oppressive temperature. With the way the sun would arc across the sky, he could sit there until the night brought a harsh climate of its own, safe from the reach of its rays.

Not that he believed his task would take that long.

Conversing with the Shukaku and fully dedicating his attention to it affected his concentration to outside influences. Bearing that in mind, the desert was the safest place for him to be. The chances of him being attacked in such a terrain, where he had the ultimate advantage, was unlikely.

So Gaara closed his eyes and focused, until he could sense himself in the Ichibi's domain.

There was a lot of water and a lot of darkness, with nothing to separate the Shukaku from the space in which Gaara stood. Beneath his feet, the water rippled in gentle circles. Towering over him was the impressive and large form of the Bijuu sealed inside of him.

'I'll do something about all of this,' he grumbled.

'Nothing can be done.'

Shukaku emitted a low growl. 'Then you'll die. They'll kill you.'

'They haven't before...'

'Only because of me!'

Gaara raised his eyes to the Ichibi's maddened expression. The gold discs of his irises pulsated, shone a brighter yellow as a smirk took his maw.

'By killing, I made them fear you. It's me who keeps them in line! Stops them from stamping out your pitiful existence! I've had enough of doing what you say all of the time. Let me free. Let me teach them all a lesson!'

With every shout, the dark walls of the space shook. A headache flowered to the front of Gaara's brain, the pain split down the middle of his scalp. The water beneath him trembled, sending uneasy waves lapping in the distant corners of his mind.

'You think so highly of yourself, Gaara,' the Shukaku said, 'but without me, you would have been dead long ago!'

He reared back his head, paws against his rounded belly as he chortled aloud, the laughter echoing around the chamber even after he was done.

'You're wrong,' Gaara said.

His voice was comparitively quieter, a mere whisper fighting against the ominous, mental reverberations of the Shukaku's overwhelming presence.

'A lot of things would be different if you weren't here... but I wouldn't be dead. I would be more alive than I am now.'

'I make you feel alive,' the Shukaku said, 'with every human we erase.'

'And if all of the humans in the world were dead, I would still be alone. Nothing would change.'

'Loneliness doesn't bother me!'

'I've stopped caring about what bothers you.'

The Shukaku threw his fist to the side, impacting on the area with a tremor violent enough to cost Gaara his balance. He staggered, one foot sinking into the shockingly cold water that surrounded him. Managing to retain some purchase with the flat of his palms, he regained his position and crouched, awaiting the next blow of the Shukaku's tantrum.

'Do you really think I'll disappear just because you will it?'

'I don't need you to disappear,' Gaara said. 'I just need you to be quiet.'

For a moment, the Shukaku's expression was concentrated with rage. His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed into slits. Then as quickly as the anger took him, it dissipated. Shukaku smirked.

'Heh.'

Gaara got to his feet, frowning as he tried to work out what that kind of response was supposed to mean. On rare occasions, he found tormenting and teasing the Shukaku to be a great pleasure. He enjoyed it when he could verbally back the beast into a corner. If nothing else, it brought a short-lived respite from its crazed ramblings.

Through this practice, Gaara had come to realise when his cold comebacks were enough to offend the Ichibi. If he allowed it, and if he had nothing else to do, he could indulge in a silent, staring contest with Shukaku all day and night. Most of the time, he would win. Unlike him, Shukaku liked to talk and hear the sound of his own voice.

So the job was done. Gaara focused in on the liquid heatwaves obscuring the dunes in the distance. He got to his feet, a dull ache still lingering at his temples. A short walk through the shifting sands brought him level with Sunagakure on the horizon, the impenetrable walls reaching as high as the distant sun. Night would soon fall.

Whilst he had no way of stopping Temari and Kankuro from finding out the truth, he at least had something to give them. It would take time; it would be a gift he could only deposit to them after a lot of patience and care, but maybe that would make it worth the while.

If he was lucky - and if he could prove himself - they might wait long enough to see that their brother wasn't so lost to them after all.

 

* * *

 

The sooner they were out of the Kazekage mansion, the better. That was what Temari had taken away from her visit with the witness.

Kankuro had barricaded himself inside of his room for most of the evening; she could hear scraping and clattering noises as he shifted furniture and packed up his things.

She supposed they were in some kind of argument. She hadn't exactly been nice to him earlier in the day, and since returning home from wherever he had been wasting his afternoon, Kankuro had dutifully ignored her.

Temari wanted to talk to him, wanted to tell him everything about what the witness had said to her, but what would be the point? The mission had been solved and the truth of it would hurt Kankuro more than she could measure. Just the thought of him trying to plead Gaara's innocence made her feel exhausted. It had been a tough week for all of them; it was about time Kankuro realised that his faith was misplaced so he could move on already. Like she was having to do.

Of _course_ it had been Gaara who had killed the watchman. He would have saved them all a day's worth of hassle if he had just come clean at breakfast. Where else had all of that blood on his clothes come from in the days before the mission's start? Temari realised she should have trusted her instincts, but instead she'd tried, as Kankuro was trying, to give their youngest brother the benefit of the doubt.

Relaying the mission's outcome to Baki was all Temari had left do.

The sun had fallen behind Suna's outer walls, a navy-purple sky revealing the first winks of starlight through the circular windows. She paused for a moment, still nagged by the witness' behaviour.

Without any conscious planning, Temari found herself walking in the opposite direction to the mansion's main exit.

Approaching the corridor to his room always made her apprehensive. In her childhood, it was a place associated with danger. An oppressive atmosphere used to lie thick outside of the door, the attendants left to guard it pasty and miserable from the constant fear and exhaustion. It couldn't have been easy, dealing with a child like Gaara. Even without her father's warnings and the patrolling specialists, Temari still didn't feel safe so far into the mansion.

Nerves wrung out her stomach, her lungs empty of breath as she raised her fist and prepared to knock. Her knuckles barely scraped the wooden surface before the door opened and swung back, manipulated by an arm of sand.

Gaara sat at the edge of his bed, his hand poised before him as he drew the limb of sand away from where Temari stood. The faintest hint of surprise touched his otherwise flat expression.

'Temari...?'

For the first time in a while, she couldn't sense any bloodlust on him. Often, his presence in a room made the air heavier, more difficult to breathe. Yet she could've sworn that things felt... more serene. Still, she had to remember why she was there.

The window was slightly open, cool air spilling into the room. How he stood the temperature was beyond her, but then again, he had probably experienced harsher climates in the deserts at night.

'We need to talk about something,' she said. 'It'll only take a few minutes.'

There was that tone again, the one she hated but couldn't help using. It was a subconscious bid for self-preservation. Pathetic backtracking that she wasn't used to performing in anybody else's presence. It was never guaranteed to work either. She knew that all too well from her time with him in Konoha.

The bruises on her back from where he had smacked her against the tree were yet to fully fade.

Worse still, Gaara didn't say anything to break the tension. Since the door hadn't been slammed in her face, and since he had commanded the string of sand to drop lifelessly to the ground, Temari tried to take his silence positively. Even if seeing him touch his palm to the side of his head warned her of the opposite.

He was thinner, she noticed. There was a smear of dirt on his cheek and sand grains stuck in his hair, evidence that he had spent the day in the desert instead of helping them with the mission. Probably because he knew fine well what the outcome of the mission was going to be.

Seeing him then, he was every bit the twelve-year-old boy he was supposed to be. Not the monster she had grown up with.

She just couldn't make herself see past it. Not now. Besides, experience had taught her just how quickly Gaara could change from a boy into a monster.

'We'll be moving out of the mansion soon,' she began.

'I know...' The interruption struck her like a slap.

She blinked, diverted her gaze to the floor. If it had been Kankuro he'd done that to, an argument would have ensued. However, Temari pressed on, her tone as light as always.

'Have you packed your things?'

Gaara took his hand away from his face and shot her a look beneath a frown. He didn't have to say anything; the jibe was obvious. _What things do I have to pack?_

Any meetings between them had her so dedicated to watching for potential signs of attack, that she didn't waste time assessing the surroundings aside from marking good exit points. Countless times she had stepped foot into his room - or been close enough to it to see through the door - yet she had never taken the opportunity to notice his natural surroundings.

The room was bare, all except for a line of small, potted cacti plants of various shapes on the cabinet beneath the window. Beside those, there was a long-snouted watering can, and his clothes were neatly stacked in a pile at the foot of his bed. He had since changed his outfit to a long-sleeved suit, a white sash in place over his shoulder.

Like him, the room was very much a blank slate.

Temari spent a moment stalling for time, her hands clutched together as she prepared herself to confront him about the watchman. Words were such an easy thing to command, but none would come to her. She glanced at him in time to see a doubtful look on his face. It was blinked away when she finally managed to give voice to her concerns.

'Moving isn't all I'm here to talk about...'

Gaara got up from the bed; with his back to her, Temari was glad he had missed seeing her flinch. With one foot ready for retreat, her body angled towards the door, she had to make an effort to look more relaxed around him. He was already agitated, she could see that for herself in his restlessness.

From what she could make out, he was testing the Shukaku. Lightly touching his fingertips to the cactus spines. Each time, a small burst of sand interrupted the contact, protecting him from self-inflicted pain. It knocked her heart out of beat.

'The mission we had this morning - '

Her voice cracked at the last moment, and Gaara waited her out.

'Well, it's done,' she managed to choke out. 'It's over.'

'You found out who killed that man,' he stated.

Little rushes of sand broke the silence, his pressure on the spines harder than before. He'd moved from one fingertip, to two, the defensive bursts more frequent.

'You,' Temari said aloud.

Gaara stopped provoking the sand barrier and turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. She offered an even stare back, unsure of how to behave. Usually, someone else would have dealt with discplining him. Their father, Baki and, in the past, Yashamaru. But it didn't matter how many times her youngest brother was confronted about his violence. As he got older, he consistently failed to take the warnings and scoldings seriously.

Temari expected nothing different from him as she stood there, staring him down. Eventually, he flicked his gaze off to the side.

'Forgive me.'

Concern flooded his expression, but he couldn't look her in the face. His tone was soft, his words almost a whisper, as always, like he was struggling to talk past a thick emotion in his throat.

That was the second time she had heard him say that in the past week, and for the second time, she couldn't allow herself to detect any integrity.

'Do you think,' she dared to say, 'that being sorry is going to change everything?'

The hairs on her arms bristled, a sudden chill seizing her frame. Instead of looking at him, she stared intently at the floor, her jaw set as she drew in controlled breaths to keep herself calm. It was the first time she had ever engaged in such a conversation with him, and she already knew the outcome before it happened.

She heard a soft whimper and knew that it wasn't because he was crying. Gaara barely showed any emotion in front of others; Suna's sands would turn to snow before he ever openly wept in her presence.

When Temari mustered the courage to look him in the face, she saw her brother in a familiar stance. Hands pressed to either side of his head, his features lightly contorted with pain.

'Get... out,' he ordered.

'Gaara,' she pleaded, 'things can't go on like this.'

He groaned, lowering his head until his chin touched his chest, his knees hitting the floor with a thump.

'Didn't... you... hear me?'

His eyes were shut tight, his body trembling as the Shukaku threatened to take over. Not for the first time, Temari was paralysed by the fear of seeing it happen. Of watching her brother, so small yet so frightening, as the monster inside of him threatened full possession over his mind and soul. He was slumped down against the floor, one hand still clutching a clump of his hair.

Unable to do anything else, Temari opened her mouth to say his name again. Maybe that would bring him back to reality, make him realise the danger he was imposing upon his own family.

Not that it had ever worked before. It was just a desperate cop out.

The word was barely out of her throat when Gaara raised his head, one arm outstretched to command a wave of sand towards where she stood. But he didn't look angry or amused.

He looked terrified.

Almost tripping over her own feet, Temari backed into the corridor, amazed to see the sand morph into a hand inches before where she stood. It then clutched the edge of the open door and pulled it inwards, shutting Gaara into the bedroom.

She could've sworn she felt the walls around her rattling. And rather than wait it out, she fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: I'm not sure if I like this chapter much but I don't want to make you all wait any longer than I already have done, ha ha... Ah... and..! Thank you so much for the reviews, you're all so kind...! I really don't know what to say... other than thank you one thousand times for reading this story...! As long as you guys like it, I will keep trying to update regularly. Thank you again...!  
> EDIT: spelling/grammar.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: You all have no idea how much your nice comments mean to me... thank you so much for the continued support. I'm seriously overwhelmed. I just hope it continues to be interesting for you... The pressure is on...?!

'Kankuro - thank goodness you're here.'

He hummed a laugh, only to disguise the grunt of irritation that met a bead of blood bursting from the cut he'd just put into his finger. All thanks to Baki's sudden distraction. Right at a critical moment, too. It was lucky that he hadn't started to infuse the poison just then.

'You know you're the only person who's ever said that to me, right?'

'Don't pity yourself,' said Baki, 'it's unbecoming of you.'

Despite his humoured remark, the teacher was breathless, the half of his brow that wasn't covered by his headscarf shining with sweat. Kankuro got up from his chair, his finger propped between his lips as he drew the blood out from it. A coppery tang clung to the roof of his mouth, but he didn't want to waste time finding a bandage for a cut so small.

'Where is Temari?' Baki asked.

A faint recollection hit Kankuro then. Temari had said something to him through the door, probably over an hour ago. It could have been anything, but he was so intent not to listen, he hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention.

How long was she going to put him off? What had the witness said - or done - to her to keep her so quiet? Withholding information wasn't Temari's style. On her own, she was an independent and capable shinobi, but she had always strived to work as a team, even against Gaara's repeated attempts to sabotage her efforts.

Packing up his things to move wasn't a fit enough distraction. In the end, dedicating all of his attention fixing up and enhancing the Crow was all Kankuro could do to keep his thoughts from drifting.

Had Temari...?

No... He couldn't think like that.

Besides, it was obvious what had happened to the witness. She had ended her own life. Kankuro had noticed all of the photographs around the flat on his way out. Newspaper clippings, the faces - some recognisable - of the shinobi Gaara had purged from the village over the years. Whatever the woman's reasons for giving up, it was not Temari's fault... although it saddened Kankuro to acknowledge the mess his younger brother was steeped in.

'I don't know where Temari is,' Kankuro admitted to Baki. 'What's the message? I'll pass it on - '

'No need,' Baki said. 'I know Temari was the only one to speak to the witness today.'

'So?'

Kankuro's defences were up. He had always maintained that he could say whatever he wanted about his siblings, but anybody else had to have very clear permission. It was hard to tell how much Baki knew so far, but the truth wasn't long in coming.

'Your witness is dead,' the teacher explained. 'A civilian reported it early this afternoon. Therefore...'

Baki stepped into the room, glancing around as if he expected Temari to be hiding somewhere like a fugitive.

'It's very important that we find Temari and figure out what happened.'

If he had been more prepared, Kankuro wouldn't have left such a long pause between Baki's announcement and his own reaction. Of course, he hadn't been prepared. Everything had happened so quickly, he didn't think Baki would know about the suicide until he'd had a chance to talk to Temari about it first.

With the way his teacher was behaving, he felt unsure of what he could trust the man with.

'I can tell you what happened,' he began.

But Baki wouldn't let him finish.

'A cell I dispatched this afternoon saw very clear signs of a struggle. Your witness was killed, Kankuro. In less than an hour after Temari visited her. Do you have any idea how that looks?'

'Who cares how it looks?' Kankuro snapped. 'Are you seriously suggesting _Temari_ was the one who killed her?'

Baki pinched the bridge of his nose as if to warn off an oncoming headache.

'I'm not accusing either of you of anything -'

'Really?' Kankuro spoke through his teeth. 'It sure sounds like you are.'

Adrenaline had already begun to surge through his being. His breaths were shallow, his heartbeat accelerating into a wavering flutter.

He was sure he had all of the evidence he needed to gain Baki's trust, but something told Kankuro there were more people to please than just his cell leader. Baki's involvement with the Kazekage's affairs, and his status as a trusted Jōnin, often made him see the bigger picture to any event. It was never going to be as simple as upholding loyalty to the siblings as their tutor.

Yet in the right circumstances, he could be swayed.

'Let me explain,' Kankuro stressed. 'There's something weird about that witness. Temari came back after meeting her and had nothing to say - '

'What about Gaara?' Baki interrupted. 'What has been his part in this mission so far?'

Kankuro bit back on his irritation at being interrupted. Baki was clearly stressed, he could see that. The creases on his brow might as well have been permanently cemented there. Since the minute he'd entered the room, he hadn't relieved himself of his frown.

'Well, you know...' Kankuro skirted.

The same question was nearly always asked of him, and he always had the same answers: _He wasn't there for most of it_ ; _He showed up to help at the end_ ; _Gaara actually decided to sit this one out_...

Menial missions weren't his little brother's forte. It wasn't that he lacked the ability... he just lacked the patience. Kankuro could understand the reasons behind that somewhat. Everyday was an A-Rank mission for Gaara, a mission of survival. And the people of Suna didn't exactly trust him to tend to their pets or accompany merchants and family members through the desert either.

'Gaara wasn't with us today,' Kankuro said. 'He was at the sign-up tent...'

Baki's eyebrow raised, his one, visible eye widening. Kankuro could almost see an aneurysm about to take him with the throbbing of a vein at his temple.

Gaara in public places never boded well. In fact, many of the citizens of Suna expected there should be some kind of personal shinobi force attached to him at all times to ensure their safety. Since Baki was their cell leader, the average person expected that role was _his_ responsibility.

'What was he doing there?' he balked.

Kankuro couldn't help feeling it was wrong to tell Baki before he'd had a chance to pass the information onto Temari... but it wasn't like he hadn't tried to already. Besides, something told him that being unclear - or dishonest - with Baki would only hinder him later.

'Gaara wants to join a new team, as part of the regular forces,' he said.

'And have you talked to him about this?' Baki asked, aghast.

'Not yet -'

'You know there is strong evidence to suggest he killed the watchman you're looking for?'

'That was _our_ mission to figure out,' Kankuro argued, 'we haven't briefed you yet -'

'Were you planning on lying to me about it?' Baki cut in. 'Were you going to cover for him?'

'Don't be ridiculous...'

Kankuro shook his head, unable to look Baki in the eye. All day, he had confronted the mission with an open mind, sure he would find evidence to the contrary. He didn't want to have to admit it or agree that the mission was just a waste of time. He felt stupid for ever believing the outcome would be any different.

Gaara had practically confessed to the watchman's murder the moment he had returned home days before, splattered with somebody else's blood. That very morning he had sat at the breakfast table with such a guilty expression, it was a wonder Temari hadn't forced him to come clean right there and then.

But she too had gone through with the mission in search of another answer. And to think she had questioned his supposedly 'ill-placed' faith in their sibling all the way from the Leaf to the Sand...

Her reluctance was so obvious, but as always, her true feelings had been well-masked.

'The two of you, now more than ever, should be making more of an effort to keep him under control,' Baki reasoned.

Kankuro gritted his teeth behind his lips and tried to measure his breaths carefully. _In, then out. In, then out_. Just as his father had taught him. Losing his cool would never be of any benefit to him, not in any combative situation. He had to remind himself that Baki wasn't there to fight him. They were discussing the mission, and that was all.

Plus, as Temari had told him: by giving them a mission, Baki was only trying to help them out. They would have to rely on him - and remain on his good side - for as long as it was necessary. There was no way they were being promoted to Chuunin, not this year, not until their relations with Konoha could be mended.

Genin were easy to find in any village. Despite their strength and previous missions catalogue, Kankuro knew he and his siblings no longer had the perk of being related to a Kazekage. Without their father's sway, they couldn't remain first in line for higher level missions forever. Perhaps Gaara had the right idea by branching out to join the regular forces. Not just from a financial perspective, but in regards to winning favour with Suna's general public. What had Temari and himself ever done for the village, without the opportunity being handed to them by their father?

Kankuro lowered his gaze to the floor and relaxed the grip he had on his fists.

'As of now,' he heard Baki say, 'I have no confidence that you can approach this mission without involving your personal feelings.'

'It's not like that,' Kankuro attempted, 'I know what I saw -'

'And to admit you visited the scene will only drag you under the same suspicion Temari has brought upon herself.'

Unable to control his temper, Kankuro turned and kicked his chair by the legs, toppling it over onto one side.

'You have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Until I can speak with Temari, I recommend you stay here,' Baki instructed.

He paused by the doorway, looking back as if to wait for some kind of confirmation that his order had been heard. Kankuro wouldn't look at him. He stooped to pick up the chair, making sure to clatter the feet loudly against the stone floor.

'I know you mean well,' Baki said. 'Believe it or not... I do, too. Stay here and I'll update you as soon as I can.'

Kankuro waited, tuned into the sound of Baki's sandals clapping the ground. Soon, the noise receded into silence and he remained with his hands on the back of the chair, pushing down so hard with his weight that he threatened to break it.

Images of the witness and of Suna's deserted outskirts circled his mind. There was some kind of connection there, he just couldn't get his thoughts straight when he felt so frustrated.

Then plaster from the ceiling skittered onto his head like grains of sand. It left a fine spray of pale grit by his feet. Kankuro dusted his hair free of the muck and looked upwards in time to see a faint crack split across the stone above. An ominous quake shook the room and shock seized him still.

'Gaara...?' he wondered aloud.

Had he returned from the desert already? What had happened between then and now for him to...?

There was no way Kankuro could stay put. Ignoring Baki's advice, he backed out of the room and carefully navigated his way through the corridors. As his teacher had said... it was about time he made an effort to keep his little brother from making any more big mistakes.

 

* * *

 

Temari had faced many opponents, but few as surprising as the old, plump woman in apartment 5 on the outskirts of Suna. The instant the proposition had left her lips, all of the pieces had clicked into place.

Being able to recognise faces in the numerous photographs was the kind of insight only granted to someone close to the Kazekage. Someone who bore witness to ANBU investigations day after day. Given he was Sunagakure's greatest weapon, Gaara had always been a great concern for the division.

It was impossible for her father to keep his work life and his family life separate, especially after Gaara was born. He was physical evidence that both of those things had converged a long time ago, after all.

As a young girl, Temari had spent hours with Kankuro sprawled on the floor at their father's feet, listening in on his conversations as they did everything in their power to distract him. Sometimes, boredom caused her to pay attention to what was happening around her. It was how she had learnt of Gaara's rampages. How she came to learn that her younger brother was a true monster and that was why she had always been warned to stay away from him.

The newspaper clippings and milk carton advertisements were no doubt the faces of all of her brother's victims over the years. Collectively hoarded by one strange, old woman. A sister to somebody who must have one day met their awful fate, courtesy of Sabaku no Gaara.

 _This was a choice I never got the chance to make_ , Temari recalled the witness saying.

She could almost see her, deflated in her chair, her eyes as sharp as the kunai she had had concealed in the folds of her dress. Really, all she had to greet her vision was the dimly lit meeting room set high in the rounded office of the mansion. After Gaara's attack, Temari had hidden herself there, her back to the towering statues of the previous Kazekage. In time, her own father would be carved in stone and placed there.

 _Fitting_ , she thought. If there was one room he had spent more time in than any other, it was this one.

The walls shook again and Temari clasped her hands together, forcing her eyes closed as she conjured up calming thoughts. Although the memories were vague, thinking of her mother, Karura, was as close to comforting as she could get. The soft feel of her light hair, the gentle tone of her voice singing her to sleep...

She inhaled and subconsciously held in the air, anticipating another tremor.

Only there wasn't one.

Temari opened her eyes and blinked back the tears that had threatened to come forth. Everything was still. The violent shudders across the floor had stopped and the room was so quiet, she could hear her own panicked breaths amplified. She took the time to forcibly calm herself, the memory of her talk with the witness still preying heavily on her mind.

 _If you had the same choice_ , the woman had said, _which would you pick?_

She had then gotten up out of her seat, one hand hidden behind herself to conceal her weapon. The witness had splayed her fingers across the top of a wad of papers, easing herself between a tall coffee table and the other arm chair Temari had been smart enough to vacate.

 _Your life_ , the woman had spelt out, _or his?_

Everything had accelerated then. Temari recalled unhooking a kunai of her own, and raising it to meet the blade about to slice over the top of her head. The witness held a surprising strength, the headband strewn over the benchtop in her kitchen clearly not just for show.

 _You shouldn't have to choose_ , Temari remembered arguing, her words rough with panic and the surge of battle aggression.

 _You always have chosen, you just don't realise it!_ came the counter. _Every second you live under the same roof, every second you train together, you're choosing his life over yours!_

The witness' voice had been so strained, it had revealed her age and tore free her inner despair. As soon as her grip on the kunai had weakened, Temari had taken advantage and disarmed the older woman. The sound of the weapon clattering to the floor and the sight of her resting on her knees, panting from the sudden exertion, was still crystal clear in Temari's memory.

For years, the woman had festered amongst her photographs, mourning family, perhaps mourning a partner. There was no telling.

Temari gathered herself to her feet and stood by the window, peering down at the dusty, shadowed street for any sign of her youngest brother. It was then that she was hit with the sheer weight of what Gaara had to atone for.

At least he had made an attempt upon their return from Konoha. That small apology was his first step into a vast abyss, even though she had been so quick to doubt it. Temari covered her mouth with her hand, shock pummeling her chest, drip-feeding into it a dark, empty feeling that weighed heavily on her heart.

Was this really the end? Was this the only real choice she had? Ushering herself and her siblings beneath the hate-filled stares of Suna's general public because she didn't have the nerve to pick herself and Kankuro at the expense of their youngest brother?

The old woman had been right. Temari had actively chosen Gaara over everybody else time and time again. Maybe there was just no overwriting that kind of bond. Even though his murderous tendencies disgusted her, even though the Shukaku made her sick with fear, Gaara was still related to her. Still her baby brother.

And her mind would forever be armed with a thousand justifications on his behalf, and awash with pride that she had by her side one of Suna's most valuable shinobi.

In the end, Temari hadn't been able to effectively argue her point, not even against the old witness in apartment 5. Recalling the way she had left - out of the window, crouched on the hot tiles of the opposite houses - only served to remind her of the spine-cooling concern that had followed her from the outskirts of Suna. As she had retreated, she had heard a broken sob from behind, and turned in time to watch the woman's frame sinking beneath the sill and out of sight.

A clattering of footsteps drew her attention, and Temari spun to face the doorway, one hand itching for the fan she had mindlessly forgotten to strap to her back. Seeing Baki enter the room coaxed a sigh of relief.

'Have you seen him?' she asked immediately. 'Is it over?'

'It seems like it,' Baki said, his tone reserved. 'At least for now.'

'I mean Gaara,' Temari pressed. 'Where is he?'

'We can worry about him later. It's you I need to speak to.'

She nodded and stepped away from the window. It seemed natural to take a seat, for all the chairs were not hers to freely sit in. Baki pulled one up opposite from her and Temari looked about the room as she lowered herself down, wondering, not for the first time, how it felt to be someone as important as a Kazekage's aide instead of just being his daughter.

'How goes the mission?' Baki asked her straight. 'I hear you were the only one to consult the witness.'

'That's right,' she said. 'As such... I found out the whereabouts of the watchman.'

She had no choice but to say it. The truth would come out eventually and even if it didn't, the people of Suna would settle for _assuming_ Gaara was the culprit without evidence or the results of an investigation. Either way, he would be blamed, and given he was the true culprit, it was only fair that he faced the consequences like any other.

Still, it didn't stop Temari from wishing the result had been different.

'What of the witness?' Baki asked, a quick turn of conversation.

Temari frowned. 'What about her?'

'She's dead.'

A cold pool of dread flooded up from her stomach and into her chest. Temari swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

'N-No way,' she muttered.

A long period of silence followed in which Temari felt uncomfortable looking at Baki, who stared her down, his eyes keen for every movement and breath she took.

'So what now? Do we investigate that?'

She leaned forward and folded her arms across the table, trying not to appear too eager for another mission when the circumstances were so grim. Still, it would be another pay packet to add to their leaving-home fund.

Oddly, Baki cracked a smile and put a hand to his brow, one elbow on the table. He sighed, but even that didn't remove the relieved grin from his lips.

'I should have known,' he said, putting both hands in his lap.

'Should have known...?' Temari repeated.

'No,' he corrected, 'I did know. All along.'

'What do you mean?'

'I owe you an apology, Temari. You and Kankuro.'

Baki pushed back his chair and got to his feet, prompting Temari to mirror him. She still felt tense, her muscles wound tight and convinced that - at any moment - the mansion would be shaken once again by the Shukaku's unruly temper. Her teacher shared that look about him; dark circles hung beneath his eyes and his complexion was paler, the resulting stress of the Kazekage's recent passing slowly sapping away his strength. She might have noticed it earlier if she hadn't been so concerned about her brothers.

'I might have been too harsh on him,' Baki continued.

'What are you talking about?' Temari quizzed.

'Your witness didn't just die... according to a first look, she had committed suicide. You have to understand that... with you being the last person to see her...'

She brought a hand to her chest, as if she could catch the shock that had pounded her heart out of beat.

'How could you think - '

'I didn't,' he insisted, 'not seriously. Of course, this leaves a lot of questions. The team I dispatched, and strangely, the landlord himself, realised they weren't dealing with a simple suicide.'

'So the witness has been killed?' Temari prompted.

'It appears that way...'

As a favour for both of them, she tried not to dwell too long on Baki's suspicions. His thoughts were probably all over the place. Even after relieving himself of that burden, he still looked grieved.

'I also have some information for you, pertaining to something else,' he finally said.

Temari waited him out, apprehensive of what he might say with an expression so wrought.

'There are rumours that Gaara plans to defect from your team in favour of joining the regular forces. It's not a motion I'm opposed to. For one, it would be considerably less pressure on you and Kankuro should you both continue to take on missions together.'

She shook her head, unable to make sense of what was being said. Then again, it made _perfect_ sense. Ignoring the fact that their father had been pronounced dead earlier that week, Gaara had been uncharacteristically quiet. He was naturally taciturn, but alarm bells always rang loudly for Temari when her youngest brother was taken by complete silence.

It often meant he was planning something.

Given that he had been missing the whole day, it was clear he had had plans, and had already set them in motion.

'Do you think we should stop him?' Temari asked with uncertainty.

'Something needs to be done,' Baki told her. 'I'm fearful for your future... and for Suna's. Gaara is already a hot topic amongst the higher-ups. He could aggravate things politically if he makes such a bold choice. Say it goes wrong... say he kills a team member or fails a mission due to the Shukaku's volatile nature... Plus, with our news on the watchman, there is no way the shinobi that make up the regular forces will accept his membership readily.'

'I see,' Temari said. 'So you knew...'

It felt as though there was a corkscrew in her gut and with every new admission that left Baki's lips, the screw was wound tighter and tighter. Not to mention that, as they stood there, Gaara was MIA and in a precarious emotional state. The way she had left him in his room washed her with guilt. It would be a miracle if he was still there, and it was that chance of a miracle that compelled her to attack the situation head on for a change.

There was no point running. Not any more.

'We should find Gaara,' she said, approaching the exit. 'Are you coming?'

For a moment, Temari was sure he would decline. No one ever willingly approached the Kazekage's youngest son in that kind of disposition. But Baki wasn't gutless; despite his emotional and physical exhaustion, he mustered a smirk and gave a certain nod.

He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by the sound of someone tearing down the hallway outside. Temari stepped back from the door, making room for a flustered and breathless Jōnin. Baki appeared to recognise her, leading Temari to assume she was part of the team he had mentioned earlier.

'What have you learnt?'

The woman pointed to the circular windows that lined the perimeter of the room they were about to leave behind.

'Look outside,' she told them, 'to the left side of the village.'

In the meeting room, they were elevated far enough above the village to see across the rooftops and down into the side streets and alleyways. Temari took one window and Baki took another, whilst the Jōnin waited a few steps back. She allowed them the time to scout the scenery, both of them unsure of what they were looking for. Baki was about to ask, but Temari caught his barely-audible proclamation with a gasp.

Not too far from the mansion, somewhere between the buildings they looked out on, a deep, orange hue glowed through the cracks like blood, hot in a web of veins. The hue cast shadows across a taller structure, the wall echoing back silhouettes of a crowd, their hands raised in the air to support fiery torches. Temari fumbled with the lock on the window, pushing out the circular pane and inviting in a cold breeze ridden by the bleak chants of discontentment.

Even though the flames of a riot were far off, the wisps of smoke left a thick tang to every breath she took. The shock of it numbed her senses, the Jōnin's words from behind her only sinking in mid-sentence.

'... as such, we believe Lady Temari's presence with the witness was used as fuel. The real culprits knew she couldn't be easily linked to a murder, but the negative connotations of being associated with a suicide have easily served the purpose.'

'What purpose?' Temari asked, her voice haggard.

The Jōnin did her best to look her in the eye, and not falter under the burden of the information she held.

'To convince anyone uncertain of Sunagakure's future that the village cannot prosper as long as the Kazekage's remaining family exist within it.'

For a moment she was speechless, unable to speak above the oncoming clamour of the mob outside.

'Who?' she eventually asked. 'Who would go to such lengths?'

The Jōnin was done talking. She nodded at the windows, gesturing once again for her to look outside. Temari refused, knowing full well what would meet her search. Too many faces.

Too many people.

The true culprit hidden amongst a mob that, with each passing second, marched closer to their prize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: I hope this chapter was not too long...? Ahh hah... I'm not even sure I like it very much... I'm sorry if it's bad.


	13. Chapter 13

When it was over, the only thing he ever wanted was silence and darkness. Preferably a place where he could lose all sense of feeling until the initial pain had passed. Until the light of the sun or moon outside wasn't so agonising to look at.

Since such a place didn't exist, Gaara nearly always ended up retreating to the desert. Or one of the many abandoned lots towards the outskirts of the village. He considered it as he slowly traced the corridor out of his room. If he kept walking, he would soon end up on the higher levels of the building.

Heading out of Sunagakure was always more of a precaution than anything else. A way of exhibiting some control over the uncontrollable. The Shukaku had been tormenting him since their earlier exchange, petulantly throwing a tantrum because he couldn't get what he wanted. His taste of freedom in Konohagakure had broken a long spell of disciplined control and Gaara was finding it difficult to keep the monster in check.

The control he had suffered for, the control that had allowed his father to accept him and call off the assassinations, was slowly slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass.

Another blinding pain caused him to stagger. Shukaku didn't need him to be unconscious to instigate a transformation. If he was miserable enough, hateful enough, it became all too easy to give into the Bijuu's whims. After some deep thought, he realised how important it was for him to ignore those feelings. Only it was difficult when the voice in his head - and his own overwhelming anxiety - insisted that his loneliness and the distrust of the villagers, were permanent fixtures in his life.

_ That's right, _ Shukaku reiterated.  _ That girl doesn't care if you're sorry. Nobody does! _

At the end of the corridor, by a flight of stairs, Gaara hesitated. His hands trembled at his side, the remains of a headache shifted around inside of his skull by the rumbling chuckles of the Ichibi. He brought a hand to the side of his head, his cool palm a slight soother for the ache lingering there.

After ascending the first step, he halted at the sound of Temari's voice from the adjacent corridor. Judging from the pace of her steps, she was in a rush and was accompanied by somebody else. Gaara didn't have to see or hear the man to know it was Baki. Keeping track of his tutor using his developing sensory abilities was once integral to his peace of mind. Given Baki had been appointed by the Kazekage himself to train the siblings as a unit, Gaara had never fully trusted him.

'He should be in here,' he heard Temari say breathlessly. 'This is where I left him.'

Her figure appeared by the door he had left behind, one hand raised as if about to knock. She looked back to greet their tutor and they both stood there, equally hesitant to summon him. Gaara could almost feel the pressure of their held breaths, their stopped hearts, all tugged tense by a string of fear.

Fear of  _ him _ and what he would do to them for something as simple as knocking on the door to his bedroom.

Gaara took a deep breath of his own. Maybe if he went to her there could be a small chance at redemption for what he had done to the watchman. The more determined he was to run, the less apologetic he would appear.

_ You're making a mistake _ , said Shukaku.

He froze mid-step, one hand against the wall to balance himself. Its tone was soothing, almost motherly. The sway was hard to resist.

Years and years of only the Bijuu's company had muddled everything up. When he was born, the woman who had carried him had died. Gaara knew that.

Yet the Shukaku had always insisted, 'This power is mother's'. The rush of the sand, its protective qualities; even Yashamaru had insisted they belonged to Karura's will.

Some time ago, Gaara had therefore convinced himself to call the Shukaku mother. That was surely what the beast meant. So everything it said was within his best interests. In other words: the truth.

Such conflicting thoughts only made it harder for him to separate reality from the Shukaku's overbearing opinions. Breathless with panic, Gaara turned to climb up the stairs, distancing himself from Temari and Baki. He was forced to retreat or risk the sand - beyond his full control - lurching from the gourd to devour them.

On the upper level of the mansion, he didn't quite find the dark silence he sought. The further he advanced, the more a strange, eerie light consumed the night's shadows within the corridor. Gaara shielded his eyes, his own instinct and the Shukaku's self-preserving will alerted by the scent of smoke. A thin haze lay in the air, thickening every breath he took. Unable to detect any heat or the sound of fire crackling, Gaara was sure it was safe for him to proceed. At the end of the corridor, off to the left, there was a filing room. One of the quietest places in the whole building, it had always been a decent hiding spot.

As he reached out for the handle, distant voices met his ear. The thin, traipsing smog flowed in through an open window at the end of the corridor, along with the recycled sound of a ruckus outside. Instead of pulling it closed to cancel out the haze and the draught, Gaara approached the sill and leaned out into the night, turning his head right and left in search of the source.

His heart sank out of beat at what he saw. He was inhaling the taste of flames, all of which came from a crowd of villagers as they marched down the street abreadth of where he watched from. Torches in hand, united by a chant he couldn't quite hear, the contents of Sunagakure defied his existence with sure solidarity. A rumbling laughter teased him, the Shukaku even more animated than before.

Gaara ducked back inside, his veins running empty of warmth. Afraid, he climbed up onto the sill and ducked through the window, leaping out into the chill air. The soles of his feet hit the adjacent rooftop hard, hard enough to knock him off balance. Sand rushed beneath his palms to prevent the skin being scraped. Uneasy, Gaara stood upright, eyes searching for the diminshing crowd. He caught the tail end of their march vanishing into a cut between Suna's close structures.

Looking about himself in a slow circle, he frantically tried to piece together a suitable escape route.

_ As if they'd let you go so easily! _

A shiver took him as he was hit with the memory of being much younger, of being chased down by the ANBU sent by his father. He had never felt more of a monster than when he was scrabbling to escape a wave of assassins. Whilst he couldn't be in the village, he couldn't leave it either. The Kazekage had had a very permanent concept of Gaara's eventual departure from Sunagakure, and in it, he left the walls as a corpse.

Of course, his father wasn't the only Suna shinobi who felt that was the most appropriate way to deal with him as a failed experiment.

_ Look out! _

The Shukaku's swift defence was always the quickest warning. An arm of sand curved to protect Gaara, the barrier dropping in time to show him a flurry of masked shinobi seconds before they made use of the night's shadows. Their kunai shimmered as they dropped down to the street below, a distant clatter marking the end of their journey. Gaara seized up, his muscles tense and his senses keen. The fear that came with being attacked was so familiar to him that he nearly always mistook it for excitement.

More sand shot up with a roar, a barrage of shuriken blocked and deflected to the floor and surrounding walls. Overcome, Gaara clutched either side of his head, his eyes shut tight.

The soft cork at the top of the gourd eased itself free and the sand poured out. At the sound of a yell and pained groans, he knew it was hopeless anyway. Controlling the Shukaku... winning trust...

All of it was hopeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: The next chapter is long so just a little one this time... Thank you for reading...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: A little note before the chapter... Ah... I came back to check my profile after a long time away... I honestly didn't think people were still reading this story... I'm so sorry for not continuing it for you and for leaving such a long time between updates. I love to write so much and when I started this fic, I had more privacy in my house and more time to dedicate to it. Unfortunately since then, things have changed... that coupled with general mental un-wellness that has bothered me over this past year made me believe that nobody would be reading this anyway... and so I convinced myself there was no point to finishing it.  
> But... I'm amazed at the reviews it has received... I can't explain how it makes me feel to know that so many people have read this and found something in it where I have seen so little. My initial thought was to abandon it altogether but... I did have some chapters pre-written and I think I might be able to finish it for good, although I might have to ask more patience of you... which I feel bad for, as you've already given enough.  
> Chances are.. the majority of the readership for this has moved on now. Which is okay. I think... so long as I can make one of you happy by finishing it, then that will hopefully make up for all of the kindness and encouragement I have read in the reviews today.  
> So I hope this chapter is good enough and thank you once again for sticking with it. I hope you have all had a lovely festive season and I anticipate that you will all have an amazing new year. Many happy returns to all of you and thank you one million times...!  
> ~enneh

The chances of Gaara still being in the mansion were slim, Kankuro realised. If only processes of elimination were effective at pinpointing his whereabouts.

With age, his younger brother had gained independence away from their father, as well as an ability to come and go without leaving much of an impression. As such, Gaara was absent from large chunks of Kankuro's memory. The only time he ever could recall him, were the days and nights he had stared out at the desert, able to see over the walls of the village as the Kazekage and his aides fought the Shukaku into submission.

For weeks after, the sands had been ingrained with flecks of gold and spatters of blood.

At the mansion's main exit, the sound of voices became a concern. There was an unmistakable scent of smoke in the air, similar to the celebratory bonfires the village sometimes lit around festival time. It was unusual for so many people to be out at such a late hour. Sunagakure usually settled into a quiet but tentative evening routine once the moon was out.

Kankuro left the mansion, and approached the shadowed ramp with care. He peered out to see a crowd at the edges of the expansive path. Flashes of orange caught his vision and there was an overbearing warmth in the air, uncharacteristic for the time of night.

With one hand as a shelter to the visual noise, he jogged out to greet the crowd, waving his free arm to draw attention to himself.

'Hey!' he shouted, addressing the villagers closest to him, 'What's wrong? Why are you all out here?'

Something clattered to the floor, a round, heavy object that had first hit the bones of his toes. Kankuro lifted his leg to nurse the pain and hopped backwards, surprised to see a stone lying by his feet. Another flew through the air, missing his head by mere inches.

'Are you  _ serious _ ?'

He ducked to the side, backing against the wall of an office block close to the mansion. More stones were flung his way; they thumped the dry earth, and one shattered a low window to the mansion. When a kunai flashed past his face, Kankuro knew he couldn't hang around. The villagers were chanting their complaints;

'We've had enough!' he heard.

'The Kazekage can't hide you now.'

'Stop protecting the Shukaku and start protecting  _ us _ !'

Heart hammering, he bolted down a narrow pathway between the offices and the mansion. As he skidded to a halt at the nearest junction, he was faced with more angry villagers, each holding a flame in one hand and a weapon in the other.

'Damn it,' he muttered.

They were in such a mess. All three of them. He had to get to Temari, to warn her, to make some kind of plan.

What were they supposed to do?

Even though they were the Kazekage's children, they had limited authority, and Suna was already politically compromised in the aftermath of Yondaime's death. Rule had it that the strongest, most trusted shinobi would take the mantle of Kage. Everybody in the village knew who that was.

The only problem?

Nobody trusted him.

Over the past few days, not even his own siblings could do that.

Kankuro navigated the streets, his thoughts running as fast as he was. By the time he had put some distance between himself and the rioting crowd, his lungs were hot, every breath rough and sore. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and looked up at the night sky. At that moment, several objects clattered to the ground around him. Something caught him hard on the shoulder and drawing breath between his teeth, he examined his arm for a potential wound. Mere inches from where he stood, there was a kunai.

He tensed, listening out for any stray villagers. Their chants were a distant clamour and Kankuro could only hear his own ragged breaths in the alleyway he occupied. It was a familiar rush that provided the answer he sought.

Sand grains fell from above like rain.

Just the person he was looking for.

The cylindrical tower was circled by a spiral of iron steps; it was an old store house with a lazily marked training area at the very top. Sight-seeing in Konoha, Kankuro had noticed multiple caged bases. It seemed the Leaf had proper facilities for the young Genin to train in. Things were a little rougher in the Sand, but they simply didn't have the funding. That was what had kick-started their rebellion against the alliance treaty in the first place.

If only, if only. Kankuro knew there was no point in wishing away the past, but if it hadn't been for their meddling in Konohagakure, his father would still be alive, the villagers would still exist in tenuous peace...

His feet clattered against the metal steps as he raced to the top, not caring about the noise he made. At the last leg of the incline, he wrenched a handful of shuriken out of the wall. The sibilant sands told him that the weapons had been deflected by Gaara with enough force to embed them into the soft stone.

Breathless and clammy with sweat, Kankuro edged closer to the fray. The panic only made him clumsy and knowing the source of his true fear only made everything worse. He knew that no shinobi up on the roof would ever be as fearsome as his younger brother.

Yet the scene that met him told a different story. No bodies had fallen. The telltale tang of blood was absent from the air. Gaara knelt on the floor, both hands clamped to either side of his head as the attackers advanced. Kankuro flinched, sure he had never seen his sibling look so small.

There was no room for conscious thought. Crossing his arms, Kankuro flung the shuriken with accuracy from between his fingers. Two of the attackers took a back-full, but whilst one sank to the ground in pain, the other spun on him wildly, her eyes mad above the cloth hiding the rest of her face. She reached behind herself in an effort to remove a shuriken from between her shoulder blades and Kankuro took advantage of the opening. Rushing her, a battle cry rough on his throat, he collided with her at the waist. She was taller, stronger... but with more strength than he thought he had, Kankuro managed to drag her down to the floor with him. He ripped the teeth of a shuriken from the shinobi's back and fumbled, unable to grip it in time.

A blow to the back of his head sent flashes of starlight across the darkness behind his eyelids. Kankuro rolled to the side, instinctively blocking his face. Something sharp slipped into his wrist; the blade punctured the skin and audibly scraped against the bone. An abrupt and intense pain sent his hand into a spasm and Kankuro opened his eyes, losing his breath and an agonised groan as the second shinobi drove their elbow into his stomach.

Even though the bottom half of his face was covered by cloth, Kankuro recognised the cold, hard stare of the landlord instantly.

'You,' he managed to choke out through his teeth.

'Not just me,' the landlord said. 'This has been a long time in coming.'

Against his will, Kankuro smirked, struck by a sudden thought. Whether they'd attacked Konoha or not, all of this could have happened anyway. As much as he respected his father, as much as he was forced by familial bonds to love him, Kankuro knew the Kazekage had left them with a lot to be sorry for.

It was no wonder their village suffered so heavily.

There was no unity.

Sometimes, it must have felt like there was even no hope.

Their mission to destroy the Leaf village had been a stronger catalyst than any of them could ever realise. If it hadn't happened at all... Gaara would never have apologised.

Kankuro wasn't allowed the time to share his new-found knowledge.

The landlord straddled his waist and raised both hands, still clutching the blood-slicked kunai. His chest seized up, his heart a hammer to his ribs. Every breath he took was deafening and dry against his throat.

It was hard to think about himself, even when everything was so close to an end. The act was almost an unconscious one. Kankuro turned his head to the side in a desperate search for Gaara.

And found nothing.

Nothing but neglected trails of sand.

A gust of wind dispersed the grains and Kankuro shut his eyes to the feeling of something sharp cutting into his vision. He held his breath, unable to stifle a whimper of dreaded anticipation.

He never imagined that the end would be so quiet.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: I am so profusely sorry, everyone. You all deserve a much better fanfic writer than me, the one who never updates ;_; I hope this update does for now... I did originally have the next few chapters written out, but in the long and depressing tale that is my life, my hard drive failed and I lost all of the work I'd done on this... I just... couldn't look at it anymore and feared anything I wrote for this piece here on out would just not do your expectations justice.  
> Still, it has been the steady flow of feedback that has reminded me that Acceptance exists and that there were people out there, no matter how few, who wanted to see how it all ended. So thank you so much for that, I can't even begin to say how overwhelmed I am with how kind and supportive you all are. I never imagined anyone would ever say such nice things about my writing... I just hope I don't become a disappointment and that you all continue to enjoy this awkward story right to the end.  
> I also hope this chapter is okay for you for now... If in the meantime you want something else to read, I do have a long oneshot featuring Yondaime and Karura called Things of Value to tide you over (you can find it on my profile). It's pretty long and probably not very good but... it's there if you want it.  
> Apologies again and I hope you're all doing well. Much love to you all.  
> ~enneh

It was no surprise that he wasn't there.

Her instinct was to go out and look for him, but Baki was quick to instill doubt into the idea. He rooted her to the spot, hands on her shoulders, the doorway blocked by his much sturdier and stronger frame.

'You'd be in far worse danger than him,' he told her.

It wasn't until Temari relaxed and stepped back into her brother's room that Baki moved away from the door to join her.

'We should wait until my team returns with a report on the situation,' he convinced her.

As the seconds slid by, Temari stood by the window, thumbnail between her teeth. Or at least what was left of it. Behind her, Baki picked through the sparse contents of Gaara's room, deep in thought, no doubt wondering - as she did - what they were going to do once the report returned.

With Kankuro safe in his room - and packing, Temari was haste to hope - she at least only had one brother to worry about. The night was peppered with discordant voices, the walls aglow with flame. From Gaara's window, she could see the edges of the brewing tumult below, the pane warmed by wisps of smoke billowing up towards the stars.

'It's like they've come out of nowhere,' she thought aloud.

'We've been out of Suna for a good amount of time,' Baki reminded her, 'and the men and women Yondaime left in place whilst we were away…'

He had difficulty finishing what he had to say.

'Most of them were found alongside him,' he eventually managed.

Temari bowed her head; it was instinctive, a show of respect, a false practice of admittance when in reality, Baki's mention of her father was a stark reminder that he was he dead. It almost felt surreal, like she could walk into his office any time from now and still see him there behind a wall of papers; his voice she could still hear, just out of earshot to her and his presence was an empty pocket, a void that the days had to exist around.

It was all still so raw… and if nothing else, the perfect opportunity for disunity to befall the village.

There was no clear direction for the villagers anymore, and worse, promises of a new era had followed Temari and her brothers into Konoha, only to be smothered in their infancy. Where Sunagakure had expected a triumphant return, they had instead had to welcome back a premature retreat. Their leader slaughtered, his precious gold dust was lost with him. In the end, it was more than a form of protection against the One Tail's rampages; it had also been an income the village couldn't afford to lose.

'There were doubts before we left,' Baki said, interrupting her thoughts. 'But... I don't think anybody expected a revolt.'

Temari silently agreed. It just wasn't done. For so many years, Sunagakure had been engaged in enough war to last them a lifetime. Now it had all turned inwards and herself and her family were the next battle to be won.

'Unfortunately, we can't know how deep this runs,' Baki sighed. 'Not right now.'

'My visit with the witness… it was a surprise, the things she knew, the things she had,' Temari admitted.

'Yes,' Baki said as he flipped through a book from one of Gaara's shelves. 'It was evident she held a lot of resentment for Gaara.'

On the front cover, Temari recognised a delicate illustration of a small, potted cactus, the soft spines dotted with little pink flowers, her memory of its name lost to more important information. From the title, she could tell it was a guide for cultivating cacti at home; in fact, almost all of the books on the low cabinet shelf by the door were of a similar vein.

In all the time she had known him, Gaara had never struck her as one for gardening.

'Maybe she lost someone,' Temari said.

It was tempting to add,  _ to him _ . The words were almost out until she searched for something more appropriate.

'To... the Shukaku.'

Baki regarded her, that half-hidden expression of his as unfathomable as ever.

It was a start.

A small start, but one all the same: that separation of her brother from the monster contained inside of him. As she stood amongst his few possessions, Temari didn't suppose for one minute that the Ichibi was the one with the interest in cacti cultivation.

_ This was a choice I never got the chance to make _ .

Temari reminded herself of her confrontation with the witness. The choice she had to make, the words she hadn't wanted to hear.

_ Your life, or his? _

In her brother's twelve years of life, he had been taught one thing and one thing only: defence. Since his birth, it had always been understood that he would be Sunagakure's ultimate protection.

It was now Temari realised with regret, that there had not been one incident in which he had been the one to be protected.

Baki might have known now that Gaara was the culprit for the missing watchman all along, but the real question, the thing that had to be investigated the most, was what could be done from here on out. Not in terms of punishment, but in terms of protecting the person who needed it most.

'I needed to know where you stood,' Baki then said.

Temari pulled her gaze to him, hands clenched into fists. He had stalled enough of their time.

'After what happened in Konoha, I needed to know if you were with Gaara or against him.'

A brief pause existed between his bait and her restrained retort.

'And what if it's the latter?'

He closed the book with a snap and put it back to rest on the cabinet, all the while his eye on her, his mouth a thin, grave line.

'You might be asked to help,' he stated, emotionless, 'to become a part of our saga of talks about what we're to do with him.'

To hear such words, to again be reminded of how fragile a life her brother lived; Temari's heart dipped, the breath in her lungs too thin to exhale.

'The council thinks, with your father gone, now is a good time to continue the negotiations for his termination,' Baki went on.

He stepped towards her then, a threat if she ever saw one. There was nowhere for her to retreat, no space for her to put the distance back between them.

'But you and I both know,' he said, his soft tone a surprise, 'that that isn't what you or Kankuro want.'

The held breath left her in a rush. Her bones felt hollow.

'It's not what I want either,' Baki confided.

'We can't know for sure if it'll work out,' Temari said in a rush. 'He might relapse… he might be lost to us forever after tonight.'

The more she talked, the more her inner despair leaked into her tone. What if he was outside and the villagers had found him already? What if the Shukaku's great form took its space in front of the horizon once more?

Temari could almost hear the bone-chilling howl at its maw; she could remember that swollen moon, and see it as a witness to bloodshed once again.

'Well,' Baki said solemnly, his gaze at the window behind her, his features grave. 'There's only one way to find out.'


	16. Chapter 16

The bones of his jaw ached and a whimper remained caught against the walls of his throat. Death was indescribable; the feeling couldn't be prepared for. He knew this from experience, because when he was younger, he used to spend each night imagining it.

Not by choice, but out of habit.

Kankuro had never had to check inside of his closet for monsters. He'd never been afraid of what lurked in the dark, because he knew exactly what to be afraid of. It lay just a few floors beneath him every night. It prowled the deserts during the day, and it looked through his little brother's eyes.

The Shukaku was the monster he had learnt to fear the most. A reminder that, even if the day was uncertain, the method of his death would always be assured.

So each night, he would recite a mantra. To prepare for the moment when the floor caved in.

Only the preparation never paid of. The attempt at desensitization never worked.

It was already ingrained deep within that he would accept and take any death with honour. Yet that never could quell the desperate terror for what lay at the edges of his last breath, and in the moments between life and his death.

In the end, the delay outlasted his patience.

Kankuro sucked air through his teeth, tasting smoke and the warmth of blood. He opened his eyes not to any hellish vision, but to the serene sky above and a cocoon of sand suspended amongst the stars.

In places, the sand had loosened; with greater scrutiny, he saw an arm, limp and bloodied, reaching from the makeshift coffin. A _drip, drip_ of blood by his ear, dropped from a-height, faint against the echoed chants of the mobs in the streets below.

He was reminded of his wound when he attempted to sit up. Without thinking, Kankuro pushed against the floor with his injured wrist. Pain seared up to his elbow, dislodged the cry he'd been hiding so that a broken, strained sound left his throat. Cradling his hand, he looked right, then left, then scooted in a semicircle to find what he was looking for.

Gaara was standing, but only just.

His feet were apart, his arms out at either side, bent at the elbows, hands gripping the air. His control over the sand above was tentative. As soon as their eyes met Kankuro watched his younger brother collapse to the ground on all fours, the sand structures plummeting with him.

Just in time, he managed to scrape himself back far enough to avoid the body of the Landlord as it found the floor of the rooftop. An audible grunt pushed shock right through him, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling.

The man was still alive.

So was his accomplice, from the sounds of things. The strong woman Kankuro had pushed to the floor now writhed out of the sand. With the way her ankle was twisted, the way she held her arm, it was clear she had broken bones. But she also had her life, and that was more than most of Gaara's victims walked away with.

Not that Kankuro could say the same for the attacker he had floored with the stray shuriken pulled from the tower wall.

Since he'd last looked, that body hadn't moved an inch. The chances might have been slim, but they still existed; one or more of the small bladed weapons could have hit them in the the neck. Where the skin was soft, lined with blood-filled veins, important to the brain. If they hadn't bled out already, then by now, the neurological damage would be severe.

There was no point dwelling on it. Kankuro got to his knees and still supporting his lacerated wrist, shuffled towards where Gaara lay. As he got closer, he could hear his younger brother's struggling breaths and see the way his stiff frame and clenched fists betrayed the fight within.

He looked back to where the living attackers had been dropped, to notice the sand remained beside them. Agitated, unpredictable; the grains moved like insects, an angry swarm ready to convene on their next unfortunate target. For all the woman Kankuro had tussled with earlier still had some fight left in her, the Landlord was motionless, except for sudden spasms along his body.

Alive, but damaged. Any one of his organs could have hemorrhaged, been punctured by snapped bone, crushed beyond its ability to function. Few escaped the sand's pressure able-bodied, even less escaped able to breathe. Kankuro had seen firsthand the devastation of the sand-binding coffin; the form of a person squirming inside, only to burst outwards in scores of blood and mangled flesh.

What they were left with today was better than that alternative, at least. Better than them being dead. That was two less bodies for himself and Temari to explain away, along with the watchman.

But it was also proof of some kind. Proof that their brother could change, and had already. Even if the change was small, the fact still remained: just a few weeks ago, Kankuro would never have been able to say that Gaara had ever made a move to protect him.

That was different now.

'Gaara,' he attempted.

Kankuro would have nudged him, but he didn't dare let go of his frail wrist. Just looking at it pulled his stomach upwards with nausea. Faint, his vision grainy and blurred, he tried not to think about the injury too much. It was a warm patch at his chest, the blood eating through the black threads of his shirt. A harsh, aching throb, pulsing where his hand joined his arm. A slick of pale bone, peering between walls of skin and muscle.

'You have to get up.'

His voice was haggard and black fuzz threatened to blind him.

'You have to…'

Falling. That was what it felt like. He was still upright, but the world around him spun out of control. He leaned forwards to brace himself against the dizzy spell and at the same time, Gaara looked up at him from the ground.

Change could happen in a few weeks, or it could happen in a single instant.

Kankuro noticed, hazily, that the blue of Gaara's eyes had darkened to an inhuman colour.

And the yellow irises of the Shukaku were staring out from within.

 

* * *

 

Temari ran out into a wave of heat and anger. As she reached the ramp of the main entrance, a flamed torch was thrown at her feet. She jumped back, eyes covered, a surprised yelp out in the air for the mob to latch onto.

Those who had escaped the barrier Baki's team attempted to establish closed in and chanted, wolves pushing back against weakened prey.

Or so they thought.

Temari reached back for her weapon, the fabric taut and her swing powerful enough to blow away the flames with a wild gust of wind. The torches close to the front diminished into smoke trails, those towards the back catching clothes and skin, inciting furied cries. The formation weakened around the middle, the organised attack now loose and unfocused. She drew back the fan again, the metal frame clicking into place as she threatened another attack.

Baki's team pushed forward at her signal, quick to take advantage of the crowd's confusion. Scores of shinobi peeled out of the shadows and leapt out of the night, weapons drawn, the silver of their headbands flashing with the stars. Through all of the shouting, the panic, and the anger, Temari ignored the frightened flutter at her chest. She surrendered her own protests to the tumult, her voice snatched away by the chaos before it even had a chance to be heard.

It was ugly, to say the least. The sour tang of blood against close sweat, the thickness of the smoke roughening every breath. At Baki's gesture, Temari retreated further up the ramp towards the mouth of the mansion, weapon still drawn, a frown heavy on her brow as she watched the ordinary people of Sunagakure fighting with one another.

From where she stood, it was hard to tell sides. The men and women at Baki's command might as well have been part of the mob, and the people within the mob could have all - at some point - gathered around the mansion to celebrate with the previous Kazekage. There, as he announced the birth of each child, there as he proposed his plans or there by his side, as he rallied them towards conflicts long past.

Hot smoke stung her eyes, her vision obscured by gathering tears. She looked to the night sky and rubbed her arm across her face. It was then something caught her attention.

A strangely solid shape, suspended with the stars.

As quickly as she had noticed it, the vision dissipated. A limp frame falling like a weight, until it was out of sight. Somewhere on the rooftops far from where she stood.

Dread pounded her heart to a stop.

That had to be Gaara. There was no doubt about it. His attack style was unique, something she had seen executed again and again.

It was the first time in a while she had witnessed a full body emerge from the assault.

Without Baki's say-so, without wasting the time to find and consult him, Temari secured the fan to her back and skirted around the ensuing riot. She had to get to her younger brother, before the monster within him did something they would all regret.

In her attempts to weave around the violent masses, she came into contact with fists, arms and elbows, angry eyes past the point of being able to see. Instead of fighting back, Temari drew herself in, her hands tucked beneath her chin as she forced her way through the crowd and towards a neglected alleyway, brimming with shadows and empty save for discarded torches, lost shuriken and stray kunai.

It didn't take her long to leap up to the rooftops using overhangs and buttresses to gain height. As the soles of her sandals scraped the dry stone of a flattened roof, she scanned the horizon for any sign of Gaara.

Instead, she saw several people, the night too dense to count them, but lit up enough by the fires below to betray vague silhouettes. Two of them stood out, one close to the floor, the other on their knees.

Temari kicked off from her resting place, the wind cold on her skin as she put all of her strength into each jump. With every advance, the picture became clearer, her thoughts slow to match her shock.

That eared hat she had seen so often, since he was small. At the edge of the dinner table as he sneaked treats for later, lopsided under the heat of the sun, discarded on the floor as he sat at his workbench in his room.

Kankuro.

He was there too.

_Idiot_ , she wanted to shout.

Why wasn't he in his room, where she had left him?

And it was too late to ask. Too late to ask either of them. As she touched down on the rooftop, level with her brothers and the struggling forms of beaten shinobi, Kankuro fell forwards, too weak to keep himself up. Face down, he lay right underneath Gaara who was in the midst of rising to a precarious stand.

Temari recognised his laboured breaths. She caught familiar hushed whispers as they fell from his lips. He was talking to it again. He was having a conversation with the Shukaku.

From what she could tell, it had already won the discussion.

Through the hazy smoke and cold air, Temari recalled the scent of foliage and the feel of a midday sun as it pierced the trees. The look in her little brother's eyes as she settled him, only for him to shunt her with unreal strength against a tree trunk.

She could almost taste the copper at the back of her throat. And as he staggered towards her, she could all but see the rivers of it that might fill the streets under the burning amber in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Longer chapters because we're getting close to an end... Thank you again for all of the feedback, I'm always so pleasantly surprised by it. I hope this chapter is enjoyable and that I can bring this to a nice finish for you all soon... Oh, and an early Happy Halloween to you all! Maybe this is a preemptive treat for you? Heheh!  
> Many thanks and appreciation.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: Hello again, and so many thanks for the kind reviews ahh... I'm so glad... I never know what to say. Oh, and... just so you all know, I won't be giving up on this. I have a little more to write... I'm just very busy... I hope this is okay (and was worth the wait)...! As always, feel free to let me know what you think.

'Can I ask you something?'

'You already have.'

She was on the edge of her seat. He raised his eyes to catch her gaze, a small smile at his mouth.

A joke, she realised. Temari let go of the breath left in her lungs and offered a weak grin in return.

Weak, because she had to force it.

After the day she'd just had, it was a wonder if she'd be able to pass a genuine smile ever again. Exhaustion hung on her, as heavy as the training weights at her ankles. With her emotions all scattered and fragile inside, her bones were still rattled by angered shouts heard hours ago.

Her father, the Kazekage, was protected by his wall of papers. Stooped over his latest pile of work, he appeared to only half-listen as his pen scratched signatures and notes. But this was how it had always been. Temari just had to have faith that her words were heard, even if it looked like they weren't.

She liked to think that, even if he wasn't fully there in a conversation at the present, as her father, Rasa would still be able to remember small moments like this in the future. If that was the best she could hope for, then it was a hope worth having; even if she would have rather had his attention now, instead of later.

'Did you ever…?'

Her voice was almost a whisper. Temari stopped herself and cleared her throat. It was a hard thing to ask, after all.

But she tried again. 'I mean, have you ever had to… Is there a way you can…?'

'What?' Rasa asked.

'Gaara,' she said meekly.

That in itself appeared to be enough. Her father put down his paper and his ink-dipped pen; a black bead hung from the nib, about to stain the table.

'You're... having trouble with him,' he surmised, his voice frail.

A long time had passed since they'd lost Yashamaru, and a great portion of the village besides. There had been a shift in Rasa's opinion of his youngest son since, but talking about him was still not a thing he appeared entirely comfortable with.

Temari supposed conversations about Gaara were kept for important meetings with the elders, always composed with an official, detached tone. It must have thrown him off-guard, to have to talk about him here, in the comfort of his office. With his eldest child. His daughter, of all people.

One person he'd tried very hard to keep separate from it all since the very beginning.

Yet, it had been his choice for them to train together. Whether that was due to a lack of other possible candidates, or for another reason currently unknown to her, it didn't change the fact that for as long as she worked with Gaara, Rasa would have to get used to talking about him casually. No matter how much he didn't like it.

'It's just… today,' she tried to explain. 'I think he might have… But we left him, so I don't know for sure.'

There was something about saying it, and saying it out loud, that felt wrong.

Saying it would make it real.

It would make real the memory that had already begun to fray at the edges. The three of them, deep in the desert. Sent there by Baki, as a training exercise. There were old posts hidden out amongst the sands. Some had been swallowed by emerging dunes, but others, weather-worn and faded, poked between cacti, or stood with scattered rocks. The idea had been to collect the writing from the posts and note it all down somewhere. With all of the piece collected, they could go back to their teacher with a fully-composed phrase, proof that they had been attentive, thorough, and cooperative.

An orienteering exercise; that was what it was. Only made harder by the harsh wind and sand, the intense heat of the sun, and the third member of their team: the monster in their midst.

Baki, like any good squad leader, wanted the siblings to be able to work together. Temari supposed he might also want a break sometimes from Gaara's temper, from Kankuro's passive-aggressive complaints, and maybe most all, from her inertia. He struggled to understand why she could no longer do the things she used to excel at.

In the end, it wasn't a lack of ability. It was just nerves. Fear. Because Gaara was now always sat there, watching.

Judging.

Baki probably thought their time spent in the desert would teach them to be able to depend on each other. That it would wash away the rift that had developed between them over the years.

Only it hadn't worked out like that at all.

'Try not to worry too much,' Rasa said, with some hesitation. 'So long as Gaara is in the desert, the Shukaku isn't a danger.'

'I'm not worried,' Temari said, 'not about that…'

'I see,' came the reply.

He looked at her expectantly, his hand hovering above the pen he'd put down earlier, ready to pick it up again. Itching to complete the work piling up on his desk.

'How do you get it to stop?' she finally blurted out. 'When he's… When the Shukaku is about to come out. How do you make it, so that it doesn't?'

Another smile from Rasa, only a pained one this time. He appeared amused, almost. As if he had just guessed the punchline to a joke she'd told.

'You don't,' he said.

'Then…' Temari struggled to understand. 'You're meant to let it happen?'

'There's nothing else to do about it,' Rasa said, around the edges of a sigh. 'All you can do is react. When the time comes.'

'There's really no way?' she asked again.

He was her father. The Kazekage. Rasa was meant to know everything. She just wanted to make sure.

'There's no way to calm him down?'

'Not that we know of,' he said. 'That's… up to Gaara, to do that. He has to be able to calm himself down.'

Temari looked down at her feet, studied the pattern on the rug underneath them. The twirls of embroidered foliage, dull in colour now that so many footsteps had scuffed the design into fading. Who even knew how long it had been there? It felt as old a fixture as the Kazekage himself.

'Believe me,' she heard Rasa say as she traced the edges of the rug with her foot. 'I've tried to teach him. I just think by now… He doesn't want to learn.'

* * *

There was no time for hesitation. At the very least, she had to get Kankuro away from the Shukaku, before it fully surfaced. She could see that her brother was hurt. Where the injury had come from was less clear, but she was alarmed by the steady pool of blood expanding under where he lay.

Weapon still secured to her back, Temari made for where Gaara stood, her footsteps soft but quick. She crouched down beside Kankuro, easing one hand beneath him as the other rested at his shoulders; from there, she carefully rolled him onto his back.

It was then the wound he had sustained made itself apparent; at his wrist, a round, smooth shot of bone caught her eye. With a grimace, she considered her options. For all she was strong, Kankuro was too heavy for her to lift without help. He was unconscious, unable to help her by supporting himself.

All she needed was a few seconds. Brief glimpses of their surroundings to formulate the best plan of action in the limited time they had to spare. Two injured shinobi lay flat to the ground, one attempting to crawl her way to the edges of the rooftop, the other seized by some kind of fit.

Under the circumstances, being able to put distance between themselves and the Shukaku would offer the best chance of escape, she reasoned.

Wary, mind whirring, Temari glanced at Gaara. Tremors had him gripped by the bones as he struggled to maintain some semblance of control. The Shukaku's yellow irises were hidden, as he had the palms of his hands pushed against his eyes. So focused on the struggle within, he hadn't yet noticed that she was there.

There was no telling how long that small luxury would last.

Still crouched, legs aching, Temari maneuvered herself so that she was able to lift Kankuro from under the arms. She had her back to Gaara, something that couldn't be helped.

He stood over them, eerily silent.

Temari lifted Kankuro so that he was half-elevated, his chin pushed against his chest. He looked peaceful under the weight of unconsciousness.

Wrapping his injury would have to come later. For now, the best she could manage was to get him out of harm's way. If that caused more damage, or more blood loss in the long-run, it would be a lesser evil next to the emergence of the Shukaku.

'Don't give in.'

The words left before she could reconsider them. She had to pull Kankuro off to the side to avoid their youngest brother, precariously locked in a mental battle with the monster that possessed him.

'Hold on,' she urged in a low voice.

All around them, the air was still full with the distant shouts of the riotous crowds. The clatter of their weapons, the rush of flames. On the rooftop with them, the injured shinobi chafed over gravel as she heaved herself towards freedom.

Temari intended to follow her.

'Please,' she said to Gaara, in preparation to leave him. 'Just a little longer.'

She balanced herself and pulled Kankuro with her.

'For us.'

There was a hiss by her ear.

Her muscles tensed as a clump of sand hit her shoulder. The grains fell to the ground like a dry rain.

In her adopted position, she still couldn't see directly behind herself. Gaara's shadow was over them both, the mere knowledge of his presence a pressure on the atmosphere.

It was like being in a nightmare, chased, always seconds from the monster about to catch hold.

And it did. And there was no relief.

Not when Temari felt his hand grip her shoulder.

By now, the ache in her legs was a stabbing pain. Her ankles gave in first, and she slumped to the floor. Beaten by fear, again, she didn't know what to do other than pull Kankuro close and hope for the best.

React, as her father had once advised. That was all that could be done, or so he had said.

Breaths leaving in small, panicked gasps, Temari closed her eyes and prepared herself for what might happen next. The dread of hearing its voice, the cloying tang of blood mingling in the air with grains of sand and desperate screams.

'Te-Temari…'

That voice.

That voice didn't belong to the Shukaku.

She twisted around to see him better, to see not the eyes of a monster, but those of her little brother. A pale, unfathomable blue. He gripped the fabric of her shirt tighter, using her as a support to keep himself upright. There was no helping it. Relief burst from her in a gentle smile.

_ Thank you _ , was what she wanted to say.

Behind them and all around, the village walls threw back violent hues of flame. And everyone and everything in between was in the process of falling apart.

Except for the three children of the Kazekage. For once, they were the ones stood together.

'Temari!'

She spun away from Gaara, in time to see Baki and others descend from the night onto the rooftop, weapons drawn.

One shinobi towards the front of the formation decided now was not the time for hesitation.

Everything happened almost in slow-motion. The kunai sang, whistling right by her, out of sight.

Aimed behind her, with skilled precision, bound to find its mark.

* * *

His ultimate defence had already been breached once. The physical pain hadn't immediately registered. Not when another kind of agony had pre-existed it, since years before. But even if a recollection of how it had really  _ felt _ forever escaped him, the scar would always serve as some kind of reminder.

To Gaara, as a significant turning point in his life.

To the Shukaku, as a moment of weakness that could never be revisited.

Sometimes, the reaction of his own defences surprised even him. The sand that rushed forth, a protective barrier split between the point of the Kunai and his body behind it, had no time to form any kind of shape. Instead, it was a wave to wash away the danger, a dramatic spurt of hardened sand grains; they lost formation around the edges, a soft blanket covering Temari and Kankuro, who lay beneath it.

But that wasn't how it would look to those on the other side.

Kankuro now slumped in her lap, Temari had lifted her arms to protect her face. The sand ran over her hair like a river, but had no time to settle.

More weapons were flung from the advancing assault and the Shukaku resurfaced, a dull ache flowering under Gaara's skull. Its determination to break free was not lost, and the mental wounds from the battle he had just fought were raw handholds for it to find its grip once again.

Pillars of sand jetted upwards and outwards, and on all sides, deflecting kunai and shuriken with a fearsome power. He had to hope none would rebound hard enough to strike anyone down.

Any blood absorbed into the chakra-infused sand he wielded never reached his  _ own _ senses; there was no taste for his tongue, no dampening on his skin. For the Shukaku, however, it would be a powerful trigger.

Gaara knew, as he was pushed to his knees, weakened by its unrelenting efforts to possess him, that once blood was shed, he would lose his fight.

'Stop it!'

Temari's voice, from right in front of him. She was lying flat on her back now, Kankuro still draped over her, motionless, eyelids heavy, skin paling. Against the rush of the sand, arms covering her face, she repeated herself and repeated herself until the attacks stopped.

The sand dropped to the floor, as heavy as iron and writhing from under it, Temari sat herself upright. She still held Kankuro close, her arms locked under his. Gaara concentrated on his brother's bloodstained chest until he caught it rising with a slow and steady breath.

Hands pressed to the cold ground, he closed his eyes, and worked on calming the monster within. It was especially difficult over the sounds of Temari and Baki, fighting with one another.

'Step away,' their teacher yelled from a distance, 'and bring Kankuro with you.'

'It's fine,' Temari said back.

There was a pause in their exchange; with his eyes closed, Gaara couldn't be sure of the reason why. He focused on the tumultuous essence of the Shukaku, raging in the darker corners of his mind.

_ It doesn't worry you? _ it rumbled,  _ You'd trust  _ them _ over us? _

'If you'd just give us a moment, it'll all be fine.'

_ There is no 'us' _ , Gaara thought.

Temari's voice again, followed by Baki's. Closer, much closer than before.

'It's for the best. Remember what we discussed.'

'We didn't discuss  _ this _ ,' his sister said, exasperated.

Then a skirmish. The sand shifting, crunched underfoot. Something dragged, something being pulled away from him. Kankuro?

In the air, he felt movement. Sharp, abrupt movements, like thrashing, like fighting.

_ Open your eyes. _ Was that a command, or a jibe?  _ Us. That's all there'll ever be. _

Someone touched him and whether it was a command or a jibe, it no longer mattered. His eyes shot open as he felt himself pushed down towards the ground. What he saw was Temari stood beside Baki, his hand clamped firmly on her wrist, Kankuro behind them, tended to by men and women cloaked all in black.

Around him, more of the squadron put all of their effort into subduing him. A shock of cold water hit him like spikes of ice; his hair was drenched, droplets spattering onto the floor and the sand beneath him. It struggled to move under the added weight, turned to slush, his clothes sticking to the protective layer that he and the Shukaku once deemed necessary to have against his skin.

Arms pulled behind his back, face against the ground, he tried to ignore the panic rising inside. The shouts and anger of the beast as it dragged murder through his thoughts.

_ They'll kill you _ , it said, it's tone mockingly forlorn.

The shift in the Shukaku's mood struck like a whip. A move from profound agony to high delight shook Gaara to his core.

_ And after they're done _ , he heard it utter,  _ I'll get to kill them. _


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes: I'm so worried the ending for this won't do all of your expectations justice. But we're almost there... I'm working on the next chapter now, which I'm hoping will be the last or at the very least, the second-of-last. Thank you once again for the kind reviews, for your patience, and especially to those who have been here from the beginning and are still around nearing the end. I hope this was worth the wait, and a very belated Happy New Year to you all.

He awoke with a start, an ache thick behind his skull, his eyes raw and dry. No longer outside, he recognised the pale, stone arch of the hospital ceiling. The air was stripped by disinfectant; he could taste it on every rattled breath, the tang accented with blood, coppery and warm.

At his side, a medical-nin put pressure on his wrist, her hands cupped around his now-bandaged injury.

Back to the wall, Kankuro realised he was sat in one of the corridors. There were others around him, tended to like this as well. Together, they made up a makeshift minor injuries unit.

'It'll take time to heal fully,' he heard the medical-nin say, 'but we've stopped the bleeding and mended most of the damage.'

Kankuro used his free hand to push himself upright out of his slouch, and she cut off the flow of healing chakra in response. Observing him with care, she remained crouched beside him.

'What about out there?' he asked, groggy, his chest full with the urge to cough. 'How long have I been here?'

From where he sat, there were no windows to see out into the streets. The sun could have risen, and he wouldn't have known. He was in a void, under artificial lights; the scents and sounds outside were smothered by thick, protective walls, a steady tide of patients and panicked staff thrashing around him.

It was only with the absence of smoke in the air that he realised just how much of it he must have breathed in.

'You were brought here a little over two hours ago,' came his answer.

But her voice sounded far-off, as if she hadn't really spoken at all. Like he had just imagined it.

All around, the hospital staff hurried from corridor-to-corridor; occupied stretchers were wheeled out of sight, and the beds in the rooms beyond were hidden behind pale curtains. It was the clamour of people in pain, and the frantic response of the staff, that told most of the story.

This was the aftermath.

Fragments of a memory struck him. That sensation of falling, and the flash of the Shukaku's yellow eyes.

Kankuro motioned to a stand, but the medical-nin took him by the shoulders and gently pushed him back towards the ground.

'You're in no state to go anywhere,' she said. 'It's still dangerous out there.'

'Dangerous?' he repeated, his voice rough. 'What happened? Where's Gaara? Temari?'

The medical-nin crouched again, this time in front of him, hands still at his shoulders until she reached into her pocket for a handkerchief. She unfolded it, and used it to dab the sweat away from his brow. For all his skin was cold, and his bones were shaken, his blood was boiling hot.

'You should stay here and get some rest,' she said. 'I'll send for someone to bring Lady Temari.'

Kankuro hit her hand away, frustrated. Forgetting his injury, he was awarded with a sharp pain shot from his wrist to his elbow. He caught a cry behind clenched teeth, his temper flaring along with his fever. A trickle of sweat ran down the length of his spine, his throat rough. With the cloth folded, Kankuro watched the medical-nin put it back into her pocket as she lifted herself onto her feet.

'I can't stay here,' he said to her, 'I'm worried about my brother.'

'From what I hear,' she said, voice wavering, 'nobody will need to worry about him ever again.'

She didn't allow any time for a response. Soon, she melted in alongside the rest of the staff members as they rushed to-and-fro, as patients were ushered into any spare corridor space, and others were dragged off to places unknown.

Kankuro didn't want to believe that Gaara had given up. That path was one of no return. The business with the watchman - that was a mess that was at least salvageable. If nothing else, the chaos on the streets had done enough to distract attention away from that. But if Kankuro left the hospital now, and the village lay to waste under the Shukaku's feet…

Well, there would be no hope for Gaara. Not anymore.

Desperate to prove his worries wrong, he used the rough, stone wall as a support to get himself to his feet. Dizziness swept through him; he staggered, and had to stay still. Nausea clung to his insides. Every intake of air felt raw on his strained throat.

Still, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to keep him there, when what was left of his family lay in untold ruins.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't nice to see.

And it wasn't fair.

Years and years before, plans had been put in motion. Methods put to test. Nobody in Sunagakure could deny that Rasa - and those before him - had tried _everything_ when it came to subduing the Shukaku.

Remnants of those attempts still lay across the village. Under the Kazekage's mansion, lay the most dubious one of all.

Not unlike a dungeon, it was a space hollowed out, equipped with barred gates. Rumour had it that a very long time ago, another host to the Shukaku was kept in there. Guarded at all hours of the day. Fed his meals, and nothing much else.

Of course, the logistics to such an operation weren't all that cut-and-dry. It took a powerful - and _stable_ \- mind, to keep a beast like the Shukaku in such tight reins.

That was something Gaara had not been blessed with. Even as a child, he had been unpredictable and hard to control.

To have locked him up in a place such as this, would have seen to the fall of the mansion in days. Rasa just hadn't been able to risk it, not with the rest of his family under the same roof.

For Baki to think it was a risk worth taking at all left Temari dumbfounded. Drenched with water, exhausted from his mental battle, they were just lucky Gaara hadn't put up too much of a struggle.

Now Temari looked at him through the bars of his cage.

Several feet under the sun-warmed sands, a bone-aching chill clung to its walls. Somewhere out of sight, a leak _drip-dripped_ with a soft patter, and echoed out into the misshapen cavern around them. Awake and on his knees, Gaara sat on the other side of the thick, stone pillars, a small, shivering shape. His hair clung to his forehead, and his clothes stuck to his skin. In this state, she couldn't help but see him for the twelve-year-old boy he was. Not a murderer, not a monster.

Just a boy.

Her little brother.

'You won't be in here for long,' she assured.

But her voice lacked conviction. She needed to convince herself, as well as him.

'They can't keep you in here forever.'

Again, he didn't offer up any response. This wasn't her first attempt to start a conversation with him. For the past hour or so, all she'd had for company, other than his general presence, was the sound of the dripping leak, and his soft, but laboured breaths.

He sniffed and ran his arm across his forehead to un-stick his hair.

'Maybe they should.'

Temari flinched at the sound of his voice. It cracked, and his tone was solemn.

'You need to try,' she began to say.

'I have...'

'I know.' It still felt natural to appease him, to lighten the timbre of her voice. 'But... you don't have to do it alone.'

He shifted his position; legs crossed, he let his hands lie palm-up in his lap, his head still lowered so that Temari couldn't see his face properly.

'You don't trust us,' she went on, 'and… I understand. But… Kankuro and I… We're your family. We need to start working together now that dad's not here.'

Under the shadows of his cell, Gaara lifted his head to look at her; he wore a deep frown, his eyes piercing. There was an anger there that Temari recognised, the kind of scorn and distrust he had looked at her with for his whole life.

She wasn't a fool. If he ever spoke of their father with her at all, that conversation was months away. Maybe even years. To mention Rasa now was to remind them of the wedge that had driven them apart since they were children. And Temari didn't want that.

So she tried again.

'What I'm trying to say is…'

It was hard to get the words out, to inject the meaning into them clearly. He eyed her, hands now at his knees; she noticed his fingers coil inwards, gripping the material of his damp clothes.

'I'm sorry, Gaara,' she breathed. 'I'm so sorry.'

His expression softened, just for a moment. There was enough time for her to catch it, before he hid his face from her again. This time, he favoured the wall to his left over any eye contact with her.

'I'm sorry. For everything.'

As the words left her, it felt like an apology spoken by more voices than just her own. It would be from Rasa, if he was alive to say it. Their mother, for the childhood she'd never wanted him to have. From Kankuro, who along with her, had spent more time listening to their father's paranoia over following their own instincts as siblings.

Most of all, it was for all of the love they had never been able to show him.

For the sheer lack of a familial bond, that had driven him so far away from everyone.

Temari could tell the topic was uncomfortable for him. Rather than say anything, he dropped his gaze to the floor, where it rested for quite some time.

'I don't want you to live in this prison forever,' she said, 'and I don't want you to feel like you have to change to another three-man cell either.'

When he didn't offer up any response, she forced herself to elaborate.

'Baki told me that you'd been to the sign-up tent. Do you think something like that would be a good idea? Given your reputation, the distrust of the village?'

Still nothing.

'Is it because you don't trust us?' she pressed. 'Is that why you want to leave -?'

'No,' he said.

Uncomfortable, and wanting to see him better, Temari shuffled onto her knees and moved closer to the bars. The stone was rough and cool to the touch; she couldn't help but think how easily it would crumble if the Shukaku held it in its fingers.

'I want... to change,' Gaara then told her, with some difficulty. 'I want to build trust.'

'You can do that without having to leave us for another team,' she said.

'Not with you,' he said, 'but with the village.'

Temari tilted her head to the side, considering what he had said. She didn't want to judge him, or make him feel like this was a fruitless endeavour. Of course for some, it would be. A great many of the villagers would never be able to trust him again, no matter what he did.

She thought back to their time in Konoha, to the way Gaara had apologised to them as they'd made their escape. There was something about what had happened between him and the Leaf Genin that had changed him.

'Uzumaki Naruto,' she heard him say.

There was a long pause before he said anything else.

'I want to be like him.'

Gaara turned to look at her then, almost as if to check she was still there. Or maybe to monitor her expression. Temari pressed her face to the stone bar, the gap between each one big enough for her to do that much. Of course, to get her whole body through would be more of a challenge, but for now, the eye contact was enough.

She offered him a smile, and for the first time in a long time, he returned the gesture to her.

 

* * *

 

'You're an idiot.'

Kankuro scowled and held his injured wrist close to his chest. He'd heard the door open, but didn't need to check who it was. It had been Baki, after all, who had found him collapsed close to the hospital entrance in the early hours of the morning, and brought him home to his room in the Kazekage mansion.

'Lucky,' he went on to say sardonically, 'but still an idiot.'

'What happened out there?' Kankuro asked.

He could see enough through the window; the morning sun cast a weak light over the debris-ridden streets. Off in the distance, smoke tapered into the cold air; shadows lifted to reveal cracks cut into the brickwork of some of the buildings and houses. All done at 'regular-person' height level, from what he could tell, with rudimentary weapons and tools.

This damage was nothing compared to what the Shukaku would have wrought if it had made an appearance the night before.

So where was Gaara? He couldn't find Temari either. As soon as he'd woken up, he'd searched the mansion for them. Most of the staff weren't around to answer his questions, and any of Baki's team he'd bumped into weren't willing to even engage with him.

'The riot was brought under control in the end,' Baki said, as he drew level with him at the window sill, 'but not quickly enough to prevent casualties and large-scale damage to the village.'

'And Gaara?'

Baki didn't give an answer as quickly as Kankuro would have liked. He still felt weak from all he had been through, and whatever painkillers had been given to him had well-and-truly worn off. An ache throbbed under the bones of his wrist, his whole arm heavy with the pain.

'Where is he?' Kankuro pressed.

'We still have a lot to discuss about him -'

'Who's "we"?'

'Kankuro, you have to understand -'

'The only thing I'm understanding is that you're hiding something from me. Where is my brother? And Temari? Where are they?'

Gritting his teeth, Baki deliberately looked away from him, as if captivated by something out on the street, when in reality, it was empty. Empty of anything but discarded weapons, blast-damage from weak explosives, and glass shards and chunks of rock.

Soon, Kankuro's anger dissolved into a much darker feeling. His stomach dropped, his brain seized by one thought, and one thought only.

'You haven't…' It was even hard to say. 'You haven't hurt him, have you?'

Expression calm, collected by the cold countenance he always wore behind the turban cloth that hid half of his face, Baki turned to look at him and put a hand on his shoulder.

'Your brother is unharmed,' he said, 'but we had to take… drastic measures.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'He has been subdued, and we've confined him for now. Until things calm down -'

'Confined him _where_?'

Kankuro lost his worry to anger once again, his chest tight and hot; he shrugged his shoulder, breaking free of Baki's attempts to soothe him. When his teacher took a step towards him to offer his hand in comfort once again, Kankuro took a step back.

'Don't touch me,' he snapped. 'You're supposed to be on _our_ team, on _our_ side.'

'I am, and I always have been,' Baki said; irritation shuddered within his words, 'but this is what we have to contend with.'

He gestured to the devastation outside with a swipe of his arm, his free hand pressed to his chest. With every emphasis towards himself, he hit his palm against where his heart lay.

'I'm doing what I can. I'm trying to do what's best for everyone. Look at the state of Suna. Of what your father has left us with.'

Kankuro clenched his fists at his side. Half of him wanted to defend Rasa, to explain how none of this was his fault. Only things had been bad in Sunagakure for a while. His decision to seal the Shukaku inside the body of his youngest son was the first domino in a row of bad decisions, and the trail had finally ended.

Here. In a broken village, with broken shinobi, and broken people.

'We need to protect your brother as much as we need to protect Suna,' Baki continued, folding his arms across his chest. 'As of now, he's likely the only thing stopping someone from outside taking advantage of our situation. But the people here… they can't take much more. Now is the time for diplomacy. This is something you mustn't let your feelings get in the way of.'

When Baki looked at him, Kankuro felt awkward. This wasn't the first time they'd had a discussion like this. Embarrassed, he absently itched at the bandage around his injured wrist, dedicating an uncharacteristic amount of eye contact to the action.

'I just want to know where he is,' he mumbled. 'And Temari, too.'

Baki sighed, one hand at his hip as he adjusted the cloth wrapped around his head with the other.

'Your sister is with him, in a room beneath this building,' he said. 'It seems like we're all going to have to have a much-needed conversation.'


	19. Chapter 19

She had her back to him, laboured breaths in sleep the only thing to move her. In the early hours, when tiredness took over, he thought she would leave to go to bed. For all intents and purposes, this was  _ his _ room now. This was where he belonged, until Baki saw fit to let him out.

But Temari didn’t leave him.

‘I’m just going to rest my eyes for a bit,’ she had said, and lay down on the floor, still facing him.

In between her tiredness, and his exhaustion, they had reminisced about the few positive memories they shared, followed by a tentative exploration around the issue of his future in Suna. There came a point when his contributions were nothing more than nods, and choice looks; whilst Temari could doze, and drift lazily into sleep, Gaara’s only relief from an unending period of self-imposed wakefulness was to conserve energy in any small way he could.

For a while, he stayed upright, fighting the urge to close his eyes, occupying himself mentally with games and puzzles that had comforted him since he was a child. But his gaze always drifted back to the space where his sister lay, every movement she made a distraction he was unused to.

The last person to sit with him through the night like this had been Yashamaru. Since then, Gaara had grown used to extended periods of isolation. Maybe even tricked himself into believing it was what he preferred.

In the end, he had given in. Not to sleep, but to the need to stay close to what was left of his humanity. With the Shukaku severely silent, Gaara sank to the floor, mimicking Temari’s pose. Already wracked with shivers, his wet clothes sticking to his pale, sand-dappled skin, the chill from the stone all around him almost felt warm in comparison. Eyes closed, feigning sleep, he distracted himself by imagining himself waking up again in his own room, before going to eat breakfast with both of his siblings at the table.

That was what he would have to do from now on. To make that normality his own, he had to adopt it. He had to live it. All of the things he had learnt to do by himself, he would now have to do with his  _ family _ . Not alone under the cool Suna morning outside, or by the light of its pale moon and stars, but next to Temari and Kankuro: the two very first people he had to prove himself to.

One person at a time, Gaara knew he was going to show Sunakagure that he wasn’t somebody they had to fear. He could also be something precious to them, and perhaps they could be precious to him in return.

The hours slipped by, and Temari remained peaceful throughout it all. Every so often, Gaara would open his eyes, to check she was still there. Not that he wouldn’t hear her if she made any motion to leave, but it instilled in him a nice feeling to see for himself that she could relax around him, maybe even just for a little bit.

Or so he thought.

‘A-Are you awake?’

Gaara snapped his eyes open and got to his knees, tense with chagrin at being caught. Temari had rolled over too quietly for him to have heard after all; had he simply underestimated her agility, or become too comfortable to maintain his usual heightened level of vigilance?

The Shukaku rumbled within him, all too quick to tell him its opinion. To assert that he was weak, and that this weakness would put him in danger.

Temari was sat upright, face pale, hair askew from her restless few hours of sleep. This would probably be the case for a long while. He knew he couldn’t expect that her innate fears of him, of the monster he shared a body with, would disappear after a few kind words and an apology.

But it still stung, and the journey he had to take to improve that looked longer than ever. Especially with the Shukaku’s bitter input.

He fixed her with a stoic stare, still half-thinking of what to say, when footsteps drew both of their attentions away from one another.

The steps were slow and uneven, the person in descent either very afraid of entering the chamber, or too elderly to have any hurry.

Or, Gaara mentally tacked on as their mystery guest came into view, ailing and weak. He felt the Shukaku shift within the recesses of his mind, alerted at the faint tang of blood. The trembling that then took him had nothing to do with the cold.

Temari was already on her feet, hand ready to tug the spare kunai free from her weapons pouch as she tentatively moved towards the noise. Before she could even get to the foot of the stairs, Kankuro staggered out into the open, unbalanced and shaky.

He put his hands flat to the wall, looking for something to hold onto.

‘What are you doing here?’ Temari snipped as she helped him to a proper stand. ‘You were taken to the hospital for a reason!’

He slung one arm behind her neck and over her shoulders, allowing her to help him further into the room.

‘Don’t be mad,’ he said, breathless, ‘Baki already is. Probably.’

There had been guards stationed at the top of the stairs, meant to prevent anyone unauthorised from coming down into the chamber. Temari didn’t even want to think about what he might have done to bypass them.

‘Just sit down,’ she said, crouching to help him get down onto the floor. ‘You look a state.’

‘Hah. Speak for yourself.’

Once Kankuro was off his feet, Temari unhooked his arm from around her shoulders and took his face into her hands; she looked into his eyes, checked him over for any signs of delirium or evidence that he was about to imminently faint. Other than being exhausted and pallid from the blood loss, she didn’t see any reason to be worried.

And neither did he. With a swipe of his hand, he got her to stop fussing, only to realise his wrist was still injured, and not fit enough to move around just yet.

‘Ow, ow,’ he said under his breath.

‘It serves you right.’

Gaara eyed them during this gently intimate exchange, his heart pulled downwards, aching just a little. For all it was a hard thing to do, he had to accept that the closest  _ he _ could ever get to either one of them for now, was through the bars of his cage.

* * *

The truth was, Kankuro didn’t want to have a conversation with Baki. Not out of a lack of trust in him, but because under his supervision, Gaara wouldn’t talk properly.

Their teacher could tell him a thousand times that they were his main priority; that himself, Temari, and Gaara were always at the forefront of his mind. But in the end, the village would always win. With their father gone, they were now second to the needs of Suna, no matter what the circumstances.

He looked across at his younger brother, a small, shivering shape behind thick stone bars, forced into a dank, damp cage like an animal. And this was Baki’s idea of  _ protecting _ him.

Once upon a time, this brand of isolation had been Rasa’s idea of protection too. Locking Gaara up in his own wing of the mansion, plying him with sweets and toys, but depriving him of a family life that might have inspired him to try harder against the Shukaku’s whims.

Not that there was any point in despairing over the time lost. What had been done in the past, was done now. That was all there was to it.

‘I’m fine, Temari,’ Kankuro said, brushing her aside so that he could get back on his feet. ‘The painkillers have worn off, that’s all.’

‘You’ll need that bandage changed soon too.’

She put her hands on her hips, assessing him from head-to-toe. Her ‘mothering’ pose, he liked to call it. Although if Temari was ever a mother, she wouldn’t be the soft, nurturing kind. She was more like a lion; even had that cat-like look of disapproval, like the pain he was in, and his struggle, was all his  _ own _ doing.

‘Right,’ he sighed. ‘You’re right, I mean; I’m not supposed to be here. Baki didn’t want me to see either of you until tonight, but…’

Kankuro approached the stone bars, the gap wide enough for him to press his face between them. Gaara was on his feet, arms crossed and shaking under his damp clothes, his expression as empty as ever. They - Baki, maybe others - had soaked him with water, Kankuro realised; it was a method used to quell the strength of his sand-reliant jutsu. The Shukaku couldn’t help him mould wet, cakey sand.

He gritted his teeth behind his lips, jaw set. Was this their long term plan? Douse him with water in some hole under the mansion until he couldn’t survive the cold anymore?

‘I’m not gonna let them keep you in here this way,’ he said, voice gravelly, ‘I wanted to get here first because Baki can’t justify this.’

‘Do you think I would let them do that?’

Kankuro looked back at his sister tiredly, ‘I didn’t mean... It’s just… we have to stand together. All three of us. If this is gonna work.’

Temari drew level with him and bumped him with her shoulders. She then directed a look at Gaara, a warm smile that captivated his attention for as long as she held it. The two of them had been together all through the night; what they had talked about, whatever kind of understanding they had reached, was something he wished he had been able to see; Temari had always been the one with a weaker sense of trust in their brother. Not that Kankuro blamed her, but it was nice to see her finally coming around to the idea that all three of them had the power to change the course of their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have gotten this far, wondering about all of the weird chapter notes referring to reviews and comments that, quite obviously, don't exist. That's because this fanfiction was originally uploaded to ff.net (I wanted to include the notes to prove this is my work, and so anyone from over at ff.net who might find it again, knows this is the original). The fic earned about 80 reviews before I purged the account... I both regret and don't regret deleting my existence over there. I started writing this fic in 2013. I was in and out of the NARUTO fandom, so progress with it was very slow. I was new to writing, and didn't know how to plot (evidently!); I was writing one chapter at a time over such a lot of years that I just lost more and more faith in my ability to write something that people would like, and feel was worth their time. Long story short, from about 2014, my life took a turn for the worse, and I went through what I don't lightly describe as two/three years of absolute hell. As such, my writing just wasn't a priority anymore... and this fic was left for months and months between updates, that just made me feel more guiltier, and even worse about myself. This chapter is as far as I got - I didn't even upload this to ff.net because, as you can probably tell, it's unfinished. Unfortunately though, I won't be adding anymore. It's about time I left this story behind.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left a review on ff.net. You may never know just how much you helped me during those years. I don't expect comments on this now, but I want to take this opportunity to implore anyone who reads this to please, please leave reviews and comments on the work of your favourite fic writers. We work hard for little to no reward, and a comment can really make someone's day.
> 
> Thanks again, and I hope those subscribed to this or reading in general aren't too disappointed.

**Author's Note:**

> Original notes: Short chapter to start. Thank you so much for reading~  
> Oh, and I know the gourd is of Gaara's own making, but I needed it to be a physical item for reasons ahah...
> 
> Additions: This piece was written long before the manga was concluded, so expect canonical inconsistencies. The fic was once published on fanfiction.net under 'enneh' before the account was purged. It is archived, and will not be updated or amended. Original publication date I believe was 2013, but I cannot be sure of the month/date. I am the original owner of this work... I'm not sure if anyone minded its removal from ff.net or not, but I'd like to apologise for the sudden deletion of that account. I've since decided to re-upload the works to AO3 in an effort to portfolio my fandom pieces. As this is a multi-chapter fic, the upload will be gradual. Thank you.


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